“You can tell me who Rob is on the way.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Wednesday, May 19, 11:30 a.m.
Telling Casey, Romeo, and Olivia goodbye had been much harder than she’d expected. Leigh had welcomed J.T.’s arm around her when he’d escorted her out of the Federal building to her car. With a promise to take her to supper, he’d thumbed away the brimming tears, and sent her back to Atlanta PD.
Since arriving, Leigh had asked for the chief three times, and three times his assistant had given her the runaround. Supposedly, he’d gone downtown to a meeting with the commissioner. Leigh had the nagging feeling he’d made a point to avoid her.
Leigh’s stomach growled. Skipping breakfast hadn’t been a good idea. Hungry or not, she wasn’t leaving until she spoke with the boss. Had she pushed back too hard last night?
A stranger in her own work area, she bristled at the cool reception. Her teammates smiled and spoke while giving her a wide berth. You’d think she’d been on assignment longer than a month. She tried to shrug off their behavior, but the air thickened and wrapped around her like a heavy fog.
She’d paced, entered her limited notes from last night, and waited for an explanation. Or at the least a new assignment. Her buzzing cell brought a sigh of relief. Her attorney had returned her call.
“Hang on, let me get somewhere private.” Leigh moved to a small interview room and closed the door. She’d left Karen a lengthy voice mail early this morning. “You got my message?”
“Yes. I’m sorry I didn’t get back with you sooner. I’ve cleared my schedule and will be in my office for the rest of the day.”
“Thanks, you shouldn’t have.”
“Leigh, you may need me. It’s imperative you get into self-protection mode. A multi-millionaire’s son, murdered on the streets of Atlanta, will draw nationwide coverage. People love to read and hear about these people. Be prepared. All of Jason Carrington’s dirty laundry will be fodder for the newsmongers.”
Leigh blew out a sigh, remembering the parking garage at the Federal Building. “They were waiting on me this morning when I got to the FBI office.”
“You didn’t talk to them?”
“No comment. That’s all they got.”
“Good. I’ve had clients whose statements wound up twisted and distorted. Words can come back and bite you. Be extra careful.”
“I will.”
“You’d better. And talk to no one about Jason without me present.”
“Stop. You’re scaring me.”
“You don’t know much about the Carrington family, especially the mother.”
“Never wanted to. Still don’t.”
“She’ll play this like her son was the second coming, and his death was tantamount to him being nailed to the cross.”
“That’s disgusting.”
“To you. Not to Carlton or Elizabeth Carrington.”
“I’ll leave the drama to her. All I want is the visitation hearing dropped.”
“My advice is to not push the issue for a while.”
“Why? Don’t you think Mr. and Mrs. Carrington will drop the case?”
“Think about the implication here. Their only child is dead. Their last tie to him is his son.”
“My son,” Leigh snapped. “My son.” She bit back the urge to shout.
She calmed down, reaffirmed her promise not to speak to the press, and ended the call. The nondescript interview room housed a small rectangular table and two plastic, hardback chairs. Leigh sat, needing silence and privacy to think. She refused to believe Jason’s mom and dad would care about Ethan.
Startled by a knock, she stood, slamming her knee into the corner of the table. She hopped over and jerked the door open.
Marla, the chief’s assistant, stared at her as if she’d grown a second head. Leigh rubbed her throbbing kneecap and smiled through a clenched jaw.
“Here you are.” Marla returned Leigh’s smile. “He’s back and is ready for you. Right away.”
The chief’s reputation for impatience was legendary. Marla, who no doubt had been exposed to his temper, waited, holding the door wide open.
“Thanks.” Leigh marched straight to his office, ignoring the pain shooting down her leg from the rap on the table. She paused at the closed door, knocked firmly, and waited for his booming voice.
“Come.”
“You wanted to…” Leigh’s words trailed off and stopped all forward motion. The chief wasn’t alone. All the oxygen left her lungs.
“Hello, Carl.” Leigh shook the extended hand of her union rep. “Do I need representation?”
“I’m here to protect your interests.” Carl cleared his throat twice and adjusted his uniform shirt over his pudgy stomach.
He hadn’t looked her in the eyes.
“Good to know.”
The chief shifted his bulk in the chair. “Take a seat, Detective.”
A take-your-breath-away chill raced across her skin—the cold you feel when you step from your warm living room and face a hard north wind. Leigh and Carl sat directly across the desk from her boss. Determined to make him tell her what he wanted, she leaned back and held her tongue.
“I spent the morning discussing the current situation and your assignment with the mayor. For the record, he concurs with my decision. For the time being, you’ll work a desk.”
“A desk?” Her jaw dropped. He stilled her with his raised hand.
“Let me finish. You will assist one of the other detectives who’s working an existing case.”
“You were right to have Carl present, because I want an explanation for being yanked out of the field. Tying me to a desk is preposterous.” Keeping her voice down and level, she held his gaze without flinching. “If I’m to be disciplined, I want the charges spelled out.”
“This isn’t discipline. I’m trying to protect you.”
Leigh blew out a sigh. “I’m not stupid. I understand why I’m being taken off the sniper case. My connection to the latest victim precludes my further involvement. Why am I being shackled to a desk instead of being assigned to another case?”
“Okay, Detective. Here’s where you are right now.” He leaned forward in his chair. “Carlton Carrington bypassed the mayor and went straight to the governor. Apparently, he had plenty to say, mostly accusations of how you’d conspired to have his son sent back to prison. He’s wondering now if you’re somehow responsible for his son’s death. Be glad you’re not on suspension pending further investigation. At least you still have your badge and gun.”
Heat prickled her scalp. Sweat dampened her skin. The bun at the base of her neck was too tight. She succumbed to the urge and patted her hair. “Carrington can’t accuse me of anything more than fighting to keep his psycho son away from my child.”
“Your continued complaints against Jason Carrington haven’t helped your cause. Not one shred of evidence has been found to substantiate your claims. I don’t want the mayor believing you’re a nut job. Do you?”
“You’ll understand if your concern for my job doesn’t give me a warm fuzzy feeling.”
“If you’d prefer not to work a desk...” He paused, opened a file lying on his desk, and studied the page for a minute. “You’ve accrued vacation days. Perhaps you’d like to use them.”
Leigh shifted in her chair and stared at the silent Carl. “Don’t you have something to say?”
“The department has the right to give you any assignment as long as they don’t violate the contract.” Carl spoke slowly as if he’d memorized the words. “Your job grade doesn’t guarantee field work. Take the time. Come back refreshed.”
“You, too, Brutus?”
****
Wednesday, May 19,
2:30 p.m.
Doyle blinked a couple of times against the bright light, fighting against the darkness trying to pull him under. He struggled against the black void tugging at him. A cool hand rested on his forehead. A voice, far away called to him.
“Don?”
A whisper. A familiar sound. Loving. Pleading.
“His eyelids fluttered,” the voice said louder. “I saw them move.”
One more time, Doyle tried to breach the black void. The pain stilled him.
“He moaned. Did you hear?”
The woman sniffed and her voice trembled. Ellen. His Ellen was in tears because of him? He forced himself to focus.
“Ellen.”
“I’m here.” She brushed his cheek with a kiss. “Welcome back.”
“Don’t cry,” he croaked. His throat, dry as the Sahara and raw as an open wound, prevented him from speaking clearly. Without him asking, she slipped a straw between his lips.
“Tiny sips.”
Cool and wet, the water refreshed and rejuvenated him. Ellen’s beautiful face loomed above him, reassuring him. Consciousness crept back. Something put him flat on his back in a hospital bed. He shifted and pain wracked his chest. “What happened to me?”
“You had a heart attack.”
“I retired. For us.” He fought the urge to sleep.
“Shh. Rest.” She laughed and patted his arm. “You’re not making any sense.”
“Am I dying?”
“Not on my watch.” A man wearing a white coat stepped into Doyle’s line of sight. “In fact, you’ll be better than new. When I crack a set of ribs and take a heart out, I return it in better condition.”
His brain cells kicked in. He recognized and remembered Doctor Kahim’s reputation for joking with the patients. “I appreciate you putting it back.”
“Had to. Ellen told me you two are getting married. She’d never have forgiven me.”
“Thank you.”
“My pleasure.” The doctor put his stethoscope in his ears and listened to Doyle’s chest. He pursed his lips and nodded. “We’ll miss you around here.”
“Pardon.”
“You’re retiring? After a few weeks recovery, I’ll bet you wish you hadn’t. I’ll check back before I leave for the day.” The doctor patted Ellen on the arm and left. “He’ll be fine.”
“Why does he think I retired?” He struggled to keep his eyes open as weariness crept up on him.
“You were talking gibberish when you first woke.” She gave him another sip of water. “Sleep. I’ll be here when you wake.”
His heart monitor sprang to life, the beats per minute raced while he fought to stay awake. “What else did I say?”
Alarm colored Ellen’s face. “Take deep breaths and calm down. It’s quite normal for people to talk nonsensical when coming out of anesthesia. You were muttering something about retiring.”
“Sorry. Can’t keep my eyes open.” His body succumbed to exhaustion.
Her soft hand held his, a tether to life.
****
Wednesday, May 19, 7:00 p.m.
J.T. knocked and stepped back a few paces. He bent his knees and spread his feet wide for stability. Leigh stepped out on to the porch, and cocked her head to the side looking at him as if he were nuts. Disappointment Ethan hadn’t blasted through the door and jumped into his arms surprised J.T., confusing him.
“You look like a linebacker ready to blitz.” Her blue eyes glittered with humor in the evening sun.
“Actually—” He closed the gap between them, pulling her in for a kiss before peering over her head. “—I’d braced for rocket launch. Where is he?”
“Peachtree City. Mom’s taking him to school in the morning.”
J.T. followed her inside, pushed the door closed with his foot, and leered down at her. “We’re alone?”
“Totally.” She rose on her toes for a kiss.
“He’s gone for the entire night?” He leaned back and looked into her eyes. Buried right below the surface, troubled simmered.
“Yep.” Her hands stroked down his back and held him closer. “All night long.”
He opened his mouth to ask her what was wrong, but she angled her head and nipped the tip of his earlobe. Blood drained from his head and rushed south with the speed of water through a broken damn. She nibbled her way to his jaw, sliding her tongue around the outer edge of his lips. A soft hum rolled from her mouth to his when she kissed him. His train of thought vanished, and he dragged her closer.
Jesus Christ. His growing erection strained against its confinement. The scent of her hair, the taste of her skin made him want to devour her on the spot.
Cool down.
He didn’t have her alone as much as he’d like, and this wasn’t happening fast. Tonight, he intended to take his time.
Her tongue stroked up the tendon in his neck. “Hurry.” She pushed away, grabbed his hand, and tugged him down the hall.
“Forget that.” Somebody had to take charge. With the head of steam she was building, he be inside her and spent within minutes. Not tonight, he had plans, and they didn’t include a quickie.
She glanced over her shoulder. “Excuse me?”
“We’re in no rush.”
“Speak for yourself.”
With one move, her T-shirt came off and landed across his chest. His dick jumped, begging for freedom. A red lacy bra offered a tantalizing view of rosy, rock hard nipples jutting out, begging him to touch. Zip. Her jeans were loose. She hooked her thumbs in the sides, wiggled her hips, and with a bounce they were on the floor. A tiny red triangle covered a patch of curly blonde hair. He salivated profusely while following her blindly.
“You play dirty.” He barely croaked out the words.
“Always. And I play to win.” Her need-you blue eyes darkened.