Читать книгу Seeking The Truth - Terri Reed - Страница 16

Not going to happen. What to say that wouldn’t offend or be rude? Rachelle settled for, “Interesting.”

Ignoring Ellie’s assessing gaze, Rachelle busied herself visually memorizing everything on Carter’s desk. Everything in its place. Pens and pencils corralled in an NYPD mug. Reports stacked with clean edges on one side of the desktop while a dormant computer screen and keyboard took up the other half. No dust bunnies, either.

A family photo of the Jamesons sitting next to the computer caught her attention. Recently taken, by the looks of it. Carter and Ellie, much as the little girl appeared now, were crouched down in the front row, while Carter’s three brothers, including the murdered Jordan, stood behind them. Snuggled up to Jordan was a pretty blonde woman. No doubt Jordan’s widow, Katie.

Next to the Jameson family photo sat a gilded framed wedding photo of a young-looking Carter standing with his radiant bride. Ellie got her blond hair and delicate features from her mother.

A pang tugged at Rachelle’s heart. No wonder Carter wanted Ellie to have butterflies in her life. They represented renewal and hope. “You can’t have a garden without butterflies.”

Ellie pushed off the desk and sent the chair whirling in a circle. “I have some carrot seeds that Aunt Katie got for me.”

“That was nice of her.”

“She said I should contribute to the vegetables, too.”

A big word for a little girl. No doubt she was repeating what she’d heard. “Katie’s a smart woman. Do you see her often?”

Ellie stopped spinning again. The corners of her sweet little mouth pinched inward. “She lives with us. She’s very sad because Uncle Jordy went to Heaven.”

Heart aching for this family’s loss, Rachelle said, gently, “That’s totally understandable. I’m sure you’re sad, too.”

The girl’s eyes misted. She nodded. “I miss Uncle Jordy. He gave the best tickles. My daddy is sad, too. He misses Uncle Jordy and...because my mommy went to Heaven.” Ellie’s gaze was on the wedding photo.

Rachelle blinked to repel the sudden moisture gathering in her own eyes. “Do you remember her?”

Ellie shook her head. “No. Mommy died right after I was born.”

Flooded with sympathy for this young little girl and her father, Rachelle didn’t quite know what else to say. What could she say? The little girl had experienced more heartbreak than most people in her short time on earth. “So, does Frosty live with you guys?”

Ellie sent the chair spinning once more. “He sure does. Also Scotty—he’s Uncle Noah’s dog—and Eddie, Uncle Zach’s dog. But Uncle Zach and Eddie moved out.” Her little brow furrowed. “Snapper lived downstairs with Aunt Katie and Uncle Jordan, but we don’t know where he is right now.”

Rachelle remembered the name from the news reports. Snapper was Chief Jordan Jameson’s missing dog.

“Now Mutt and Jeff live with us, too.” Ellie giggled. “Those aren’t their real names. That’s just what Dad calls them.”

“Your uncles?”

“No, silly.” Ellie waved a hand in a swatting motion. “The puppies. They are both girls, but Daddy still calls them by boy names. They are with us to be—” She paused and appeared to concentrate as she said, “Socialized.” She grinned. “But they’re gonna be police dogs just like Frosty and Scotty. Frosty’s not too fond of them. They get on his nerves. He growls, but they don’t care. They just run right on top of him. Scotty’s better with them. He just walks away when they bug him.”

“Sounds entertaining.” She would like to see the dogs and puppies together. Rachelle glanced at one dog in question. Frosty looked so peaceful lying there with his snout on top of his crossed paws. He opened one eye as if he sensed her attention.

Awareness cascaded over her flesh and she turned to find Carter approaching. The man exuded vitality even from five feet away. She mentally shook off the odd sensation.

“Ellie, sweetie,” Carter said. “Can you hang with Frosty for a moment while I show Rachelle something?”

“Yes, Daddy.” Ellie crawled off the chair and flopped down on the round bed on the floor, practically lying on top of the dog. Frosty’s ears twitched, his tail thumped, but otherwise he made no move.

Amazed at how calm and loving the dog was with Ellie, Rachelle asked, “Are you sure he’s a police dog?”

“He can be fierce when he needs to be,” Carter told her.

She wasn’t sure she believed his assurance. “If you say so.”

“He has a really good track record of taking down criminals. He’s a multipurpose trained dog. Part of our job with the transit bureau is public relations.”

“Like with the little girl and her father today.” Rachelle had been surprised to see the child petting the working dog when she’d approached Carter.

“Exactly.” He cupped her elbow. “Come with me.”

She sucked in a breath at the unexpected contact but forced herself to focus on the excitement of being given a glimpse of the rest of the precinct. Anticipating a tour of the facility, she was surprised by their first stop. He led her into a room filled with video monitors. A curvy female officer with long, curly blond hair tied back with a rubber band sat reviewing the screens. The woman turned to regard them with hazel eyes behind huge framed glasses. “Hey, Carter. What’s going on?” Her gaze raked over Rachelle.

Uncomfortable beneath the other woman’s curiosity, Rachelle fought the urge to fiddle with her purse strap or fix her hair. Best never to let anyone see a weakness. She lifted her chin, met her gaze and smiled.

“Hi, Danielle,” Carter said. “This is Rachelle Clark. Rachelle, Danielle Abbott, our computer tech.”

“Nice to meet you,” Rachelle said, then winced inwardly at how her accent had thickened. It did that sometimes when she was nervous.

“Likewise.” Danielle’s curiosity sparkled in her hazel eyes.

“I need a favor,” Carter said.

“Sure.” Danielle’s gaze snapped back to Carter. “Anything.”

“Can you access the MTA database and bring up the video surveillance from the 81st and Museum of Natural History subway platform?”

“Of course. We have access to all the five boroughs’ databases.”

As Danielle’s fingers flew on the keyboard, Carter told her the time frame he needed to review.

Rachelle’s heart rate ticked up as she realized he wanted to see the push that had caused her fall. Steeling herself against reliving the nightmare, she hovered over Carter’s shoulder.

“Here you go,” Danielle said.

“Fast-forward a bit,” Carter instructed.

It was strange to watch people in the video coming and going at a fast clip. There was the family she’d found Carter talking to when she arrived. Then she was on-screen talking to him. She couldn’t help but critique herself. She hadn’t realized she’d fidgeted with her notebook and pen the whole time she’d been talking to him. A nervous habit. One she intended to break.

“There!” Carter pointed to the screen.

Coming down the stairs was a man wearing jeans, a gray T-shirt, baseball cap and sunglasses. He stepped onto the platform and wandered from one end to the other, slowly making his way closer and closer to Rachelle with each pass.

Everyone surged forward in anticipation of the train’s arrival.

The mystery man paused right behind Rachelle. From the angle of the video it was too hard to see his hand on her back, but then she was stumbling, her feet trying to find purchase on the slick floor. The man watched her go over the edge of the platform, and then he turned and fled back up the stairs just as the witnesses had said. The video screen froze.

A shudder of terror worked its way over Rachelle’s limbs. She wrapped her arms around her middle. Definitely nightmares tonight.

Danielle turned to face her with wide eyes. “That was you.”

Rachelle nodded, feeling a bit sick to her stomach.

“There’s no good shot of his face. He obviously knew where the cameras were located.” Frustration reverberated in Carter’s voice.

Finding her own voice, Rachelle stated, “That still doesn’t mean it was a deliberate act. He probably didn’t realize how hard he pushed me, then got scared when I fell. He doesn’t look familiar to me.”

Carter frowned. “How would you even know if he was familiar to you? He was never directly in front of you, so you never got a good look at him.”

She couldn’t argue with his logic. She shrugged, hoping the fear stealing over her wasn’t apparent. If this was a targeted incident...

“Danielle, I need to see what cameras we have on the street between here and the subway.”

Without a word, the tech analyst swung back around to her monitors and typed on her keyboard. A few seconds later, traffic cameras from the area appeared.

“Go back about half an hour,” Carter said.

The video was a blur in Rewind but then came into sharp focus as Rachelle and Carter stepped into view to wait for the light to change at the corner. As the video rolled forward it caught Carter rescuing her from the careening sedan.

“I thought so,” Carter muttered.

“What?” Rachelle asked, unsure what he’d seen.

To Danielle he asked, “Can you pull video from the street right outside of the subway station about ten minutes prior to when the sedan showed up there?”

When the video was running, Carter pointed to the sedan parked at the curb. It pulled away and slowly rolled down the street.

“The sedan was waiting. Whoever it is knows where you live and expected you to take the train home.” His grim gaze met hers. “It deliberately tried to hit you.”

“And the plates were pulled,” Danielle mused, sending Carter a look even a noncop could decipher.

Rachelle swallowed back the bile rising in her throat. Her mind went numb. Someone was trying to kill her?

“Thank you, Danielle,” Carter said as he put his hand on the small of Rachelle’s back and led her out of the video monitoring room.

In the hallway, he stopped her. “Now we know. You’re being targeted. Why?”

Hoping to buy time to make sense of things, she bristled. “Why are you making this out to be my fault?”

“I’m not saying it’s your fault.” He frowned. “I’m just wondering what kind of stories you’ve been working on that would generate somebody’s animosity.”

Someone like the person who killed Jordan Jameson?

She leaned against the wall as her knees weakened. “My assignments are fluff pieces,” she told him, which was the truth. “In fact, I’ll be covering the upcoming celebrity charity ball at The Met next week. I had to talk my editor into giving me a shot at writing an article about the K-9 trials. He wanted to give it to one of the boys.”

“Boys?”

“The male staffers,” she clarified, “though they usually act like teenage boys.”

“Would one of them have a reason to want to harm you?”

She let out a grim laugh. “No. The guys are harmless. Macho, arrogant, egotistical, but harmless.”

He peered at her closely. “What aren’t you telling me?”

How did he know?

It could only be one thing that had put her in the crosshairs of a killer, but if she told Carter about her investigation into his brother’s death then any hope of advancing her career by solving Jordan Jameson’s murder would be gone.

But if she died, then what did her career matter?

* * *

Carter watched the play of emotions on Rachelle’s pretty face. He wanted her to trust him but wasn’t sure how to make that happen. They’d only just met. Trust had to be earned. But he’d saved her life twice. Such heroics had to go a long way toward building confidence in his ability to protect her. “Whatever it is, spit it out. I can help you.”

The noise she made was half moan, half scoff. “I think I know what the guy who pushed me meant by ‘You’re getting too close.’”

“Go on. Tell me.”

She licked her lips. His eyes tracked the motion.

“I am working on an investigative piece.”

He jerked his gaze from her mouth to her eyes. “Into what?”

Inhaling as if to brace herself, she breathed out and said, “Your brother’s death.”

“Excuse me?” He reeled back a step, his mind grasping to comprehend her words. “You’re... I thought you said you’re only assigned fluff pieces.”

“I am. This is something I’m doing on my own.”

His fingers curled. “You’re investigating Jordan’s murder. Unbelievable.” He hadn’t been prepared for that. But she was a reporter, after all. He should know better than to think she would be different than the vultures who’d circled for weeks after Jordan’s death. “You’re interfering in a police investigation. Do you know how much trouble you’re in?”

Her chocolate-brown eyes implored him to understand. “I’m seeking the truth. And there’s no way I’m impeding the NYPD’s investigation. But obviously I’ve struck a nerve somewhere.”

Anger put an edge to his voice. “Yes. Digging into things you have no business digging into can do that.”

She held up her hands. “Hey, all I’ve done is look up public records, searched social media, made a few dozen phone calls asking people for information. Information they might not be as willing to tell the police. Like the rumors of nepotism and favoritism.”

He tucked in his chin. “What are you talking about?”

The look she affected was one of are you kidding. “It’s a bit strange, don’t you think, the way Jordan rose through the rank and file so quickly? Your grandfather was with the NYPD, correct? Your father, too.”

Drawing up to his full height of six feet, he stared at her. “Really? Lady, you don’t know what you’re talking about. Jordan excelled at his job. He rose to the top by hard work and grit. Just like Noah has.”

“Okay, I’m only repeating what I’ve heard.” Her gaze bored into his. “And then there’s Jordan and Katie’s whirlwind romance. They went from dating to marriage to baby super fast.”

Stunned by her audacity, he could barely form words. “You have no right to invade our lives without permission. Katie and Jordan live...led—” the grief he kept under a tight leash bubbled to the surface, breaking his voice “—squeaky-clean lives. You’re not going to find anything going down those roads.”

“You may be right. But you’re too close to the situation.” Compassion softened her features, making her eyes warm. “You have to consider something in one or both of their pasts could have resulted in Chief Jameson’s murder.”

He hated that she was right. On both accounts. “I want that information.”

With a resigned sigh, she nodded. “You can have it. I will gather everything and bring it to you tomorrow.”

Taking her hand, he tugged her forward down the hall. “I need to inform Noah.”

“Did you know that several criminals that Jordan arrested have been let out of prison in the past year?”

“Of course,” he threw over his shoulder.

She dug her heels into the carpet, slowing their progress. “Most left the area or are trying to make something of their lives. But there was one guy who stands out.”

Carter stopped. “Who?”

“Miles Landau. He was released the day before Jordan died.”

“The drug dealer. We looked at him.” She really had no confidence in the department. He knew the public was restless with the lack of development in the case, he just hadn’t had it brought home to him in such an in-your-face way. “His operation was shut down when he went to prison.”

She raised her eyebrows. “So you know about his property on the waterfront.”

Carter’s gaze narrowed. “What property?”

“I uncovered a deed to a warehouse near the marina in Flushing with the business name of MiLand, Inc. Mi as in Miles and Land as in Landau. I pulled the public record on the company. MiLand, Inc. was formed two days after Miles was released from prison. And the lease on the warehouse signed a week later.”

His heart rate doubled. This was new information. “You have the address?”

Lifting her chin, she nodded. “Yes, I do. And the first name of a woman, Ophelia, whom he might be seeing or staying with, though I can’t seem to find her last name.”

As much as he didn’t want to admit it, her snooping might be helpful. And very dangerous. “Why are you doing this?”

“Doing what?”

“Looking into Jordan’s murder?”

She made a face. “Reporter, remember?”

There was more to it than just her job. “But you’re not being paid to write about Jordan’s murder, so why? What do you hope to gain?”

“I want what everyone wants. The truth.”

“You expect me to believe that’s your only motive?” He shook his head. “You want to exploit my brother’s death to further your career, am I right?”

“Not exploit. Never. I’m not that person.” Her tone was one of pleading. “I’m doing my job. And yes, I hope if I write a great article with some meat to it, it will propel my career forward. What’s wrong with that?”

“Everything, because it comes at the expense of my family.”

The tenderness on her face made his stomach clench. “Your family has already paid an awful price for whatever motivated someone to kill Jordan. Don’t you want the truth? It really is freeing.”

Her words rang with sincerity. “What do you mean by that?”

Her expression closed, like a door slamming shut in his face. She may not realize how transparent she was, but he glimpsed the pain in her eyes before she hid it. She shrugged. “Nothing.”

“Oh, something.” He wasn’t going to let her make a statement like that, then back away. “What truth set you free?”

“This isn’t about me.” She started walking down the hall. “I’d like to leave now.”

He let it go. He didn’t want to get invested in this woman in any way. He matched her steps. “After we tell Noah.”

Noah listened, his face grim. Finally, he said, “I’ll put people on Miles Landau. Though I’m skeptical he’s our suspect. We looked at Miles. He doesn’t have a record of violence. He’s strictly low-level. However, Miss Clark, I would like to see your notes and research.”

“As I told him—” she tipped her chin in Carter’s direction “—I can bring it all tomorrow. It will take me some time to gather everything. I’m not the most organized individual.”

Noah inclined his head. “Tomorrow, 10:00 a.m., then. I’ll tell the front desk I’m expecting you. For now, I’ll have Carter escort you home.”

“I can’t right now.” Carter shook his head. “I have Ellie. Send Faith.”

Noah nodded and picked up his phone to call for Officer Faith Johnson and her dog, Ricci.

“I’ll leave you to it.” Carter left the room without so much as a glance at Rachelle. If he never saw the reporter again, it would be too soon.

* * *

“Thank you, Officer Johnson,” Rachelle stopped at the locked entrance to her apartment building.

“Of course,” the petite female K-9 officer said with a smile. “I can walk you up.” Her dog, a handsome German shepherd, sat patiently at her side.

Rachelle rattled the doorknob. “It’s a secure building. No one can get in without a key. I’ll be fine.” She was exhausted. Two attempts had been made on her life. If Carter hadn’t been there...

Now all she wanted was to get into her apartment before her roommates came home. A hot bath, a change of clothes and a tall glass of sweet tea were in order.

Officer Johnson looked around as if assessing the threat level. “Okay. We’re just a phone call away.”

Rachelle smiled because the irony was the NYC K-9 Command Unit was so close she could probably scream and be heard by the extraordinary dogs. “I appreciate you taking time for me.”

“Chief said to be back here in the a.m. to escort you to his office. I’ll see you then.” Officer Johnson nodded, her dark, chin-length bob moving jauntily beneath her NYPD cap.

Rachelle unlocked the door and hurried inside, making sure the door closed completely behind her and the lock was secure. Through the small square window at eye level in the door, she watched the officer and dog walk away.

Breathing out a tired sigh, she headed to the elevator only to find a handwritten note saying, Out of Order.

Great. Just what she needed. She veered away, resigned to taking the stairs to the fourth floor. She trudged up each step at a slower pace than she normally would. Her legs were tired and sore and bruised. So was her ego. All her hopes for a career boost with her investigative report into Jordan Jameson’s murder had slipped out of her control.

When she told Carter about the article on his brother’s murder, his expression had made her lungs constrict and even now she was struggling to catch her breath. He’d been hurt, shocked and angry. He couldn’t even look at her when they were in Noah’s office.

She was glad she hadn’t given in to the temptation to tell him her own family drama but thankfully, she’d managed to keep it inside. He wouldn’t think her issues were anything compared to the losses he’d suffered. And he was right. Her heart ached for the Jamesons.

Two flights up, she turned the corner in the stairwell and found the way blocked by a man wearing a gray T-shirt. Shock constricted the muscles in her throat. Rough hands grabbed her and spun her around so fast she didn’t have time to look at his face. A muscled arm slid around her neck and squeezed while her attacker’s other hand pressed a smelly cloth over her nose and mouth.

She breathed in, preparing to scream, and gagged. Her eyes watered. Her surroundings grew dim while her oxygen supply depleted, leaving her head woozy.

Her mind screamed, Dear Lord, help me.