Читать книгу Dad In Blue - Shelley Cooper - Страница 8

Carlo Garibaldi stood at the foot of the twelve cement steps leading up to the police station’s main entrance, and willed himself not to run in the opposite direction.

The impulse was one he had been fighting daily for longer than he cared to admit. This morning, as he examined the three-story, red brick building, whose cracks and crevices he knew more intimately than a lover knew the lines and curves of his beloved, the dread that filled him at the prospect of the climb was even more paralyzing than normal.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out why. Today was the anniversary of his cowardice and his shame. It was not an event he planned on celebrating.

After drawing a steadying breath of the crisp, November air, Carlo placed his shaking left hand on the cold iron railing that bisected the stairs. It took him another twenty seconds to summon the energy to raise his right foot and place it on the bottom step.

The climb seemed to take an eternity. Despite the chill air, when he reached the top, he could feel a thin layer of perspiration coating his forehead. Beneath the lapels of his leather jacket, his heart thundered.

He pulled open the heavy, white-painted oak door, and the familiar aromas of coffee, stale cigarette smoke and ancient linoleum greeted him. But when he stepped inside, the place was deserted. Like Virginia’s lost colony, everyone, from the dispatcher to the janitor, seemed to have disappeared.

Chairs stood askew from their desks, as if they’d been hurriedly pushed aside. Here and there, a cigarette sat in an ashtray, burning unattended.

“Lon? Dennis? Mary?” he called. “Anyone here?”

The gurgling of the coffeepot was the only answer he received.

Sudden fear had adrenaline pumping through his veins. Where was everyone? What had happened? Had what he’d been dreading finally come to pass? What further sins would he have to atone for?

Shouldering past the empty desks, Carlo stumbled to his office and threw open the door. He came to an abrupt halt when he saw the sea of smiling people who had gathered there. The mayor. His five brothers and his sister. His missing staff.

“Mr. Mayor,” he said, blinking against the sudden glare of flashbulbs that told him the press was also in attendance. From behind him, someone relieved him of his jacket.

“Chief Garibaldi,” Douglas Boyer cried jovially. A wide grin split the mayor’s round face as he pumped Carlo’s arm. “I trust you’re feeling well.”

Slowly, Carlo’s heartbeat returned to normal. He’d dodged another bullet. This time.

“I’m fine, sir.”

“Good, good. I suppose you’re wondering what we’re all doing here.”

“The thought crossed my mind.”

Douglas Boyer broke into a hearty laugh. “Hear that, everyone? The thought crossed his mind. Not only is he the best police chief this community has ever had, but he’s also got a first-rate sense of humor.”

The mayor’s expression grew solemn. “We know this past year has been difficult for you, Chief. In one random act of violence, our town, and your force, lost a good man. For that we all still mourn. Because your injuries kept you away from the job for so long, we’ve been remiss in thanking you for your actions that day. But today, on the anniversary of that terrible event, I’m here to rectify the oversight. Without your quick thinking and selfless act of bravery, the loss of life could have been so much worse. On behalf of the good citizens of Bridgeton, Pennsylvania, I would like to express my gratitude by presenting you with this plaque.”

A familiar knot tightened Carlo’s stomach as he stared at the words that had been engraved on a brass plate. He was being honored for bravery above and beyond the call of duty.

You’ve got it all wrong, he wanted to shout as applause filled the room and more camera flashes blinded his eyes. I’m not who you think I am. I’m certainly no hero. Because of him, one of his men was dead. Because of him, a woman and her young son would forever grieve.

Incredible as it seemed, he was the only one who knew the real truth of what had happened that day. In the three hundred and sixty-five days that had passed since then, no one had publicly, or even privately, denounced him. No one had righteously stepped forward to set the record straight.

Coward that he was, he hadn’t been able to do it, either. He hadn’t even been able to tell his family the truth.

And now he was being hailed as a hero. Talk about a perversion of justice.

Forcing a polite smile, Carlo nodded at all the well-wishers and tried not to flinch at the words of encouragement and the handshakes and pats on the back his staff gave him as they filed out of the room. After everyone left, and before anyone else could interrupt, he fled to the washroom and locked the door. He needed time alone to compose himself before facing what was left of the morning.

Leaning forward, he peered into the mirror. The face that stared back at him was drawn and pale, his eyes red-rimmed and haunted, his mouth a tightly sketched line. He looked worse than a cruiser that had been battered unmercifully in a high-speed chase, then run through a mile of mud puddles for good measure. The only things fresh about him were his crisply pressed blue uniform and the shiny badge that, until a year ago, he’d worn with pride. He wondered what his men would think if they knew how badly his hands shook every morning when he strapped on his gun belt.

Carlo sighed, and the sound echoed heavily in the small room. He was thirty-six years old, and all he’d ever wanted out of life was to be a cop, like his father and his grandfather before him. He’d joined this midsize, suburban Pittsburgh force straight out of college. Over the years, he’d risen steadily through the ranks, until he’d been named chief of police at the astonishingly young age of thirty. And he’d thrived on it all.

Until that awful day a year ago, he’d walked the streets of Bridgeton, confident he’d be able to face any challenge that crossed his path. His brother, Antonio, who worked undercover for the city of Pittsburgh, liked to needle him that he had the cushiest job in the world. According to Antonio, while drive-by shootings were commonplace on his beat, the worst crime Carlo could expect to encounter in Bridgeton was a drive-by shouting.

Joking aside, Antonio’s words hadn’t been far from the mark. On a typical day in this bedroom community of twenty thousand people, arrests were made for theft, vandalism, disorderly conduct and the occasional domestic disturbance. Murder, rape and aggravated assault were almost unheard of.

Carlo had been so proud of his force’s safety record and the fact that there were few unsolved cases on the books. Truth to tell, he’d been overly proud. And cocky as hell.

Then the unthinkable had happened. There was an old saying about pride going before a fall. Carlo’s certainly had. Along with it, so had his confidence. Where once he had reveled in the responsibilities of his office, now he didn’t trust himself to tie his shoes properly, let alone coordinate the efforts of the people in his charge.

He’d thought hard work was the solution to the feeling of helplessness that consumed him. He’d thought it would take away the nightmares that bedeviled him whenever he tried to sleep.

He’d thought wrong.

He second-guessed himself on every decision. Each time a call came in, each time one of his men climbed into a squad car, he tensed. For months now, he’d been living on automatic pilot, just going through the motions, and he’d been lucky. Nothing terrible had happened. But if the events of this morning proved anything, it was that his time was running out.

Squaring his shoulders, Carlo faced what he’d been denying for so long. Automatic pilot wasn’t good enough where his people, and where the citizens of this town, were concerned. The way he was feeling, he had no business being anywhere near here. Until he came to terms with the demons driving him, he wasn’t going to be any good to anyone.

Back at his desk, he jotted a quick note to the mayor, asking for an unpaid leave of absence. Then he called Lon Sumner, his deputy chief, into his office and informed the man that he was now in charge. When Lon asked when Carlo would be returning, he didn’t answer. Truth was, he didn’t know if he would be returning at all.

What would he do if he wasn’t a cop? The question that would have been unimaginable a year ago echoed over and over in his brain. As he climbed the stairs to the second floor, and the mayor’s office, Carlo was certain of only one thing: He never wanted to be responsible for anyone, or anything, again.