by V. K. Powell
“But, Ben—”
“I’ll be fine.”
“Are you even wearing your vest?”
“Won’t need it. Keep everybody out until I’m clear.” She walked across the street, through the overgrown lawn to the rickety steps, motioning the officers back as she advanced.
The curtains of the residence were drawn shut, and the morning paper rested against the shredded screen door. No prickly neck-hair danger signals, always a good sign. She inched beside the door frame and listened. Whiskey, George’s collie, was barking at the back of the house. She took a deep breath and gave the door a triple tap she’d learned from George.
“Go away.”
“George, it’s Bennett Carlyle.”
“Ben?”
“Yeah. I’m alone. Let’s talk.”
“Nothing to say. Best if you don’t see this, Ben. Think too much of you for that.”
A lump formed in Bennett’s throat as she imagined what had driven this once-proud cop to such a dire conclusion. “Please, George. I’ve lost my dad. I can’t lose his friends too.”
“Leave, Ben. I’m nothing to you.”
She pounded on the door, desperate to get through to him. “But you are. Let me in, George. Just for a minute.”
The house was quiet again, and Bennett waited. Jazz called her on the radio, but she turned down the volume, focusing on George. The black HNT van pulled up, but she didn’t acknowledge the negotiator waving at her from the window. She was putting Jazz in a predicament because the hostage negotiations team should now assume responsibility for talking with the subject. She started to turn away, resigned to the inevitable, but then the door opened slightly.
“Just you.”
She slid inside the darkened house and waited for her eyes to adjust. George stood in front of her in flannel pajamas, a scraggly beard, smelling like he hadn’t bathed in days. His skin was pale and wrinkled. He’d aged badly since the last time she’d seen him. Old newspapers and empty water bottles littered the floor, and remnants of take-out containers with stale food dotted the horizontal surfaces. “What’s going on, George?”
“Didn’t they tell you, kid? I’m ready to check out. Have everybody leave and come back tomorrow. It’ll all be over then.”
She reached for his arm, but he pulled away. “Let me help, George.” She hadn’t seen him in months, and guilt hit her hard.
“Why do you care now?”
“I’ve always cared, but like everybody else, I get wound up in my own stuff and neglect what’s important. That’s no excuse. You matter to me, George.”
“Why, because I worked with Bryce years ago?”
“You and Pete were his closest friends. You’re part of our family, and you help keep him alive through your stories. Please don’t take that from me. You’re all I’ve got left. Besides, with this new job, who’s going to keep me in line if you’re gone?”
“Yeah. Saw those railroad tracks on your collar, hotshot.”
“Just more headaches. Can we sit for a minute?”
“How long you figure we got before they storm the place?”
“As long as we need.”
George crumpled onto a recliner and buried his face in his hands. “I don’t know what’s going on, Ben. I feel like I’m going nuts or something. I’m hungry and thirsty all the time, but nothing satisfies. My hands and feet tingle. I’ve passed out once, and you know I don’t drink.”
“Have you seen the doctor for a checkup lately?”
“That’s another thing. My insurance lapsed, and I don’t know how to fix it.”
“We can make that right with a couple of phone calls. You think you’ve got problems? An old high school girlfriend of mine turned up out of the blue. Can’t fix that with a call.”
George laughed and shook his head. “I hear you. The widow next door brings me the worst God-awful casseroles.”
“She’s hot for you. We need each other to work out our woman troubles.”
“Good point. I always liked you, Ben. Your dad and I used to laugh about your girlfriend shenanigans on boring night shifts. Kept us awake trying to help you figure out your girl problems. He was proud of you. You know that?”
“Sometimes.” Why wasn’t she as sure as everybody else seemed to be? Why did she question if she’d done enough or proved herself yet? She returned her attention to George. In this situation, only saving her friend would be enough.
“The question now is how do I get out of this mess I’ve gotten myself into?”
She placed her hand lightly on his shoulder. “Leave it to me. Get dressed while I cancel the circus outside. We’ll figure the rest out as we go.”
George rose and held out his hand. “Thanks, Ben. Guess Bryce sent you to me today, and I’m sure glad he did.”
“We’re all family, blue bloods through and through.”
He disappeared into the bathroom, and Bennett radioed Jazz that everything was under control and to start clearing the units. She also texted Jazz so there would be no confusion about her intentions. No charges will be filed. While she waited, she grabbed the trash can from under the kitchen sink and bagged some of the debris throughout the house. While she worked, she looked for weapons and found none, not even George’s service pistol. This whole incident seemed a cry for help, and she was glad she’d answered it.
George emerged from the bathroom a changed man—shaved, smelling of soap and aftershave, wearing clothes slightly wrinkled but clean. His bloodshot eyes filled with tears as he scanned the room. “You didn’t have to pick up my mess. Place needs a deep clean.”
“I know someone. I’ll send her over while we’re out, if that’s okay with you.”
He nodded.
“I hate to ask, George, but do you have any guns in the house?”
“Hell, no. I didn’t even take my free service weapon the day I retired. Read too many obituaries of washed-out cops eating their guns.”
Bennett brushed her hand through her hair. “Then how were you planning to—”
“Pills, but I couldn’t find any. Sad excuse for a suicide attempt.”
“You needed help and, like all hardheaded cops, didn’t know how to ask.”
He grasped Bennett’s hand and started toward the door. “Maybe, but you don’t have to babysit me anymore. I’ve got this.”
“I know you do, but I’ll have Jazz take you to the city’s benefits specialist and get your insurance sorted, then to see your doctor. Agreed?” Bennett held the doorknob waiting for his response.
“You mean I’m not going to jail or the psych ward for all this hullabaloo?”
“That’s not how we treat family, George.”
He swiped at a tear and tried to speak but tipped his head instead.
“You ready?”
George nodded and straightened as they walked onto the porch. Several officers were still securing the scene, standing by their patrol cars. As Bennett and George passed on their way to Jazz’s vehicle, each officer saluted.
“These guys really like you,” George whispered.
“They’re not saluting me.” Bennett winked as a flash of movement to the left captured her attention. George’s gray-haired, fairly attractive neighbor ran toward them. “Incoming.”
“I can’t talk to you right now, Marion, but would you look after Whiskey until I get back? I’ll call you later.”
The woman squeezed George’s arm and nodded. “I’ll wait.”
“Like I said, woman trouble.”
“Back at you,” George said, nodding toward where she’d parked her car.
A couple of officers waved Kerstin back as she attempted to break through the police line. Bennett made eye contact and shook her head for her to stay put.
“Jazz, George needs a ride to city personnel and then to his doctor’s office. Can you help him, please?”
“I’d love to.” Jazz turned to George. “Good to see you again, old friend. Right this way. Have I got some stories for you.”
Bennett called after them. “We’ll set an extra place at Sunday brunch. Bring Marion if you want.” Then she took a deep breath and turned toward Kerstin. “Why are you still here?”
“What?” Kerstin’s face was flushed and her eyes round with either excitement or fear.
Bennett motioned for an officer headed back to his vehicle. “Would you transport Ms. Anthony to the Proximity Hotel?”
“But I want to go with you.” Kerstin’s voice was almost shrill and trembled slightly.
“I’m busy.” Not really true, but Kerstin didn’t need to witness the effects of her adrenaline high. She’d faced the unknown and won. Nothing could touch her, but if she didn’t find a way to blow off some energy, she’d be edgy and anxious. Kerstin shouldn’t be around then, because Bennett wouldn’t hold back the words she’d suppressed for years.
“I’ll wait.” Kerstin crossed her arms over her chest.
The officer motioned Kerstin toward his car. “This way, ma’am.”
“I need you to leave.” She wasn’t sure how she’d channel this surge, but she had to get away from Kerstin. As the officer gently cupped Kerstin’s elbow and led her away, Bennett remembered the police academy was in session, and the instructors were always searching for volunteers to play suspects in takedown scenarios. She steered toward the Church Street facility, grateful for a chance to role-play and release her energy in a productive way.
The incident with George reminded Bennett of her grandfather’s secret to a successful career and family life—keep your personal and professional lives separate. Today they’d overlapped, but the concept was sound. Cops needed friends and lovers outside the job for their own sanity. Her dad had told her on many occasions that when a cop retires, the force forgets him.
What about Kerstin? Did she fall in the professional or personal category? The answer should be obvious, but keeping Kerstin at arm’s length wouldn’t be easy, especially while riding an adrenaline high easily extinguished with sex. Yet Kerstin wasn’t a wham-bam kind of girl. Was she? Bennett had no idea what Kerstin was like now, and that annoyed her.
Chapter Five
Kerstin was still groggy as she dressed at six the next morning. She’d drifted between sleeplessness and vivid images of Bennett entering a black door marked Danger. In her dream, Kerstin had foolishly charged the police lines to stop Bennett and failed. Her heart hammered again with the anxiety she’d experienced watching the scene unfold. She’d feared for Bennett, been protective of her, and rationalized she would’ve been concerned for anyone walking into harm’s way. Maybe the charged situation had magnified her insecurity and safety issues.
Bennett as a police officer didn’t jive with the cocky rebel from high school. Perhaps she’d simply cloaked her reckless side behind a respectable façade. Her adolescent pranks had entertained and occasionally annoyed, but her latest performance could’ve ended quite differently. She was probably still an adrenaline junkie but now took more dangerous and potentially life-altering chances. When the incident ended, Bennett could hardly stand still, and her body radiated some kind of feral energy. She had always been hyped before and after big volleyball games. Had she chosen her career for a similar type of excitement and challenge?
Kerstin still stung from Bennett’s hasty dismissal yesterday. What had prompted the borderline rude behavior? She didn’t have answers to any of her questions and probably shouldn’t inquire. Her relationship with Bennett was strictly professional. Yesterday had been an anomaly. She wouldn’t cross the lines into Bennett’s risky world again.
At ten o’clock, she waited outside Bennett’s closed office door for their meeting. She checked her watch and then her cell. No message about a time or location change. After a few minutes, she paced the narrow hallway from the entrance back to the office. Maybe Bennett had gotten another emergency call and something had happened. She stopped abruptly. Why had she automatically assumed the negative? As she reached for her phone again, the door at the end of the hall opened, and Bennett strolled in waving a white paper bag in one hand.
“Sorry I’m late, but this will definitely make up for it.”
“Where have you been? I was worr—thinking I had the time wrong.” Admitting she was actually worried about Bennett was a leap she wasn’t ready to make.
Bennett unlocked the door and waved her inside. “Again, I’m sorry. I picked up a couple of breakfast sandwiches from Ma Rolls. You’re going to thank me.”
“I’m really not hungry.” Her stomach was still in knots from too little sleep, too much speculation about Bennett’s job, and the woman beside her looking and smelling like she was ready for anything. She placed her tote on the floor and sat down in front of the desk.
“You’re in for a treat.” Bennett dragged a straight-backed chair between the two leather ones and placed the paper bag on the seat.
“Like I said, I’m really not—”
“Humor me, please, as a peace offering.” She dug into the bag and pulled out two wrapped sandwiches. “Bacon or sausage?”
It couldn’t hurt to accept Bennett’s olive branch, might even relieve some of the tension. “Bacon, please.”
Bennett handed her the heavenly-smelling bundle and then darted toward the door. “Forgot the coffee. Be right back. And you look fantastic, by the way. Nice suit.”
Kerstin straightened the jacket of her blue wool Jones of New York suit. She’d debated casual clothes, jeans and a sweater, but opted for the suit. Attire, timelines, and rules facilitated an orderly workplace, clarified professional boundaries, and reminded Kerstin of the place she’d established for herself in the world.
In Bennett’s absence, Kerstin noted the additions that had been made to the office since her last visit. A picture of Bennett’s father and grandfather, both in uniform, graced the desk, along with a badge on either side encased in Lucite. A family photo occupied a place of prominence on the file cabinet, and a couple of motivational prints added color to the walls. She scanned for other personal touches revealing Bennett’s interests or other connections, but found nothing.
“I’m not much of a decorator.” Bennett placed two mugs of coffee on the chair and dug cream and sweetener packets from her shirt pocket. “Wasn’t sure how you take yours.”
“Baby coffee, lots of cream and sugar, probably an affront to the real coffee drinkers of the world, like cops.”
“Yeah, that’s wrong, but to each her own. Let’s eat.” Bennett unwrapped her sandwich and took a big bite. She chewed with gusto, practically inhaling her food. “This is heaven.” She licked her lips, and Kerstin swallowed hard and reached for her coffee.
“So, what’s Ma Rolls?”
Bennett wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, and Kerstin handed her a napkin from the bag. “My mother and grandmother started a food-truck business several years ago, initially out of boredom. The few sandwiches they served officers at breakfast grew into a larger variety and stops at several locations three days a week.”
“Umm.” Kerstin pointed to her breakfast and jerked a thumb up. “And how does your dad feel about all the time your mom spends away from home?”
The grin on Bennett’s face vanished. She placed her sandwich on the corner of the desk and reached for her coffee, struggling to swallow a few small sips. Kerstin wondered for a moment if she was going to answer the question. “He’s gone—killed in the line of duty the year after I graduated.”
The missing twinkle in Bennett’s eyes suddenly made sense. She and her father had been inseparable. Young tomboy Bennett Carlyle worshipped her dad. “I’m so sorry, Ben.”
“Thanks.” She sat quietly for several minutes while the pain on her face slowly faded. “What about your folks?”
Kerstin winced, searching for an answer to honor Bennett’s sincerity while revealing little on this slippery slope of sharing personal details. “Divorced.”
“Yeah.” Bennett stared, urging more information from her, but Kerstin was desperate to shift the conversation back to Bennett. “I had no idea about your father’s—”
“Well, you were gone too.”
Bennett’s tone was flat, hurt laced with anger. Kerstin started to defend herself, to explain the things Bennett had no way of knowing, but it would serve no useful purpose. What was done was done.
Bennett cleared her throat. “I’m sorry. That’s not fair.”
Kerstin hesitantly reached out to Bennett, uncertain if she should touch her, afraid of what she’d feel, but she had to know what drove Bennett to pursue such a dangerous profession in light of her family’s tragic history. She inched her hand closer, then withdrew and let it fall back onto her lap.
“Ask your question, Kerstin.” Bennett’s voice softened again, her eyes urging trust.
“I don’t mean to sound insensitive, because I have nothing but respect for your family and law enforcement. Why join the profession that claimed your grandfather and father? In school, you were headed in a different direction.”
“Yeah, mostly downhill.”
“Not exactly what I meant.”
Bennett reached across her desk and picked up the picture of the two Carlyle men. “I already told you how I caught the bug as a kid. When Dad died, I was lost for a while. Everything I’d done seemed insignificant and disrespectful to his memory. He didn’t live to see me change from a party girl bouncing from job to job to pay for clubs and liquor.”
Kerstin remembered that person, popular and eager for the next thrill. “So your job is about proving something?”
Bennett carefully replaced the picture but continued looking at it. “I joined an honorable profession, and we prove ourselves every day. I’m a woman in a historically male field, so my burden is greater, expectations higher. I spent nineteen years dodging responsibility because I didn’t feel quite up to par. So, yeah, I have tons to prove. Don’t you?”