Covering Ollie (Police and Fire: Operation Alpha) (On Call Book 2)

by Freya Barker

Joe

  To say I’m rusty is putting it mildly.

  I wave the kids off when they want to go down one last run before we call it a day. I’ll just sit here with my hot coffee and my sore ass. I don’t think I’ve fallen this much since I first tried snowboarding versus skiing. I think that must have been seven years ago because I remember toting Ryder everywhere in his baby carrier, and Mason was just starting classes on the bunny hill.

  Jenny and I would take turns, which kind of sucked, but it seemed like a good time to try out snowboarding for a change. She’d been laughing so hard at me that first time when I finally made it down the hill. I ended up spending the rest of the afternoon with Ryder, while my wife tried the snowboard herself, and to my chagrin only fell once on her first run. She took to it like she’d never done anything else.

  Jenny had always been the more athletic one. That’s what made it so unbelievable when she came home from a routine ultrasound, to check on an ovarian cyst, with the news it might be something more than that. The ovarian cancer had already metastasized by the time her diagnosis was confirmed, and despite the brutal treatments she’d willingly subjected herself to, the aggressive disease just continued on its rampage through her body.

  Seven months after her diagnosis, she couldn’t fight any longer and we had to let her go.

  “Dad!”

  I’m snapped out of my trip down painful memories when my oldest boy slides to a halt, spraying me with snow.

  “Jesus, Mason.”

  “Oops—but, Dad, Trinny fell. Hard. I think she’s hurting.”

  I look up to see Trinny and Ryder walk toward us. Ryder is carrying both of their boards with difficulty, and I get up quickly to give him a hand.

  “What happened?” I ask Trinny when I get close.

  Her face is a little pale, but she throws me a cocky grin. “Took a tumble. I’m fine though, just a little sore. My pride more than anything else.”

  I’m not buying it. “We should get you checked out.”

  “Honestly, I’m fine, just hungry.”

  “Yeah, Dad, can we grab something to eat, for on the way?” This from Ryder, who’s always hungry.

  I take one last look at Trinny who avoids my scrutiny but smiles at Ryder. Vowing to keep an eye on her, I answer my son. “Sure, Bud. Let’s see what they have here.”

  We stop by Diggity Doggs, and loaded up with food and drinks, get on the road. Every now and then I check the rearview mirror for Trinny, who insisted on sitting in the back seat with Ryder. She just takes a few bites of her hot dog before offering it to Ryder, who doesn’t hesitate and wolfs it down in a handful of bites. I do notice she favors her left hand.

  The rest of the drive home she looks like she’s sleeping, which isn’t unusual, because both boys are asleep in their seats as well. Fresh mountain air will do that to you.

  When I pull into the driveway, the kids are still asleep, and I gently shake Mason awake. Behind me I hear a sharp intake of breath and I swing around to find Trinny’s eyes welling with tears. I look down at the wrist she’s carefully cradling in her other hand. It’s discolored and swollen to about twice the size.

  “Christ, kiddo. Why didn’t you say something?” I get out of the SUV and open the back door, leaning in to take a closer look.

  “I thought it was just a sprain. It didn’t hurt that much before.”

  It’s obvious, looking at the wrist, something is out of place. “Thinking that may be more than just a sprain, sweetheart. You guys stay in your seats: looks like we’re heading to the hospital.” I take a look over at Trinny’s house to note the pickup truck is there, but the blue MINI Cooper Trinny occasionally drives is gone.

  Both boys sneak worried glances at Trinny, who keeps her eyes down and is unusually quiet. I pull up her mother’s number as I back out of the driveway.

  “Hello?”

  “Ollie, it’s Joe Benedetti calling. Your daughter fell on her last run and—”

  “She’s hurt? Oh, for fuck’s sake—how bad is it?” I open my mouth to respond but apparently she’s not done. “Are you at the hospital in Telluride? I can be there in a couple of hours, I’m leaving my meeting right now.”

  She takes a breath and I jump in, grabbing the opportunity. God knows when one will come again with this woman. “We’re in Durango, heading to Mercy.”

  “Durango? She fell and you drove her all the way to Durango? Why the hell didn’t you—”

  “Mom!” Trinny yells from the back seat, cutting her mom off. Apparently that’s the way to get a word in edgewise, because it’s immediately silent on the other side of the line. “It’s my fault. I thought it was nothing.”

  “What was nothing?” There’s an edge of panic to the woman’s husky voice.

  “My wrist is messed up, Mom.”

  “I’ll meet you there.”

  There are no wasted words, just the dead air of an ended call.

  It’s not hard to spot Ollie Rizzo when we pull into the parking lot at Mercy. For one, she’s standing beside that electric blue MINI, and for another, she’s wearing the most colorful getup I’ve ever seen on someone over the age of five. Her coat is like a patchwork quilt with sleeves—every color of the rainbow—and to top it off, she’s wearing a knit hat with ear flaps and a dangling pompom, in equally wild colors, pulled down low over her eyes.

  To her credit, she barely acknowledges me when she recognizes her daughter in the back seat, and the moment I pull into the empty spot next to her MINI, she pulls the back door open and fusses over Trinny.

  She’s already leading the girl into the emergency entrance when I’m still getting the boys out of the Sequoia.

  We’ve been sitting here for almost half an hour in virtual silence, only the kids talking—mostly about what they wanted to pull from the vending machine next—and me trying not to stare at the odd woman sitting across from me in the waiting room. The moment she pulled the hat from her head, her shoulder-long, wavy—and currently very messy—hair bounced free. Almost auburn, with golden blonde highlights weaving through, it frames a uniquely pretty face with a small nose and lush pouty lips, surprising me with its appeal.

  When finally a nurse calls out Trinny’s name, Ollie gets up with her daughter, who throws her an annoyed glance but says nothing.

  “Ma’am, we’re taking your daughter for X-rays first. You’ll probably be more comfortable waiting here,” the nurse says diplomatically. “I will come get you the moment she’s done.”

  She nods her head in agreement and walks back to her seat, finally shedding that ridiculous coat covering her almost from head to toe.

  The first thing I notice is the slight limp in her gait.

  The second is her curvy body.

  Ollie

  Awkward.

  Sitting across from the man who is a whole fuckofalot bigger up close than he looks in his driveway—not to mention a shit-ton hotter—is a little unsettling. At first I was keeping my mouth firmly shut because I couldn’t trust what would come flying out—too many little ears close by—but once I cooled off enough, I realized I wasn’t really angry, just scared.

  Trinny is everything to me. She’s all I have.

  She’s also a pain in my ass, as her little display of attitude just now illustrates, but she’s my pain in the ass. Besides, I know she loves me just as hard; it’s just difficult sometimes in an all-girl household. Perhaps that’s why she’s so happy babysitting across the street—some much-needed testosterone. The kids are cute, though. That oldest boy never took his eyes off Trinny. I’m pretty sure he’s got it bad for her.

  “I’m so—”

  “I’d like to—”

  We start talking simultaneously and stop at the same time.

  “Please. You first,” he says, gesturing with his hand.

  “I was going to say I’m sorry if I was snippy on the phone. I was just…I was…”

  “Scared,” he finishes for me. “I get it. I would be too if I got a call like that about one
of my boys. They’re all I have.”

  “Trinny is all I have too. So what was it you were going to say?” I quickly redirect the conversation. These mutual admissions feel too personal to share with someone I barely know.

  “Oh, I was going to introduce you properly to my boys. This is Mason.” He ruffles the hair of the older kid, who bats at his father’s hand. “And Ryder is my youngest.” He does the same with the young boy on his other side, but he snuggles closer to his father’s side. “Boys, this is Ms. Rizzo, Trinny’s mom.”

  “Ollie, please call me Ollie.” I quickly get to my feet and shake each of their hands, before stopping in front of their father. “And we should probably do a better job introducing ourselves too. Nice to meet you, Joe.” I hold out my hand, which is quickly swallowed up by his shovel-sized one.

  “Likewise.” His handshake is firm, but his eyes—clear gray with a darker ring around the iris—are soft. I hold on to his hand a little too long and end up yanking it back, quickly taking my seat.

  “You know you really don’t have to stay. I mean, I have no idea how long this’ll take and the boys must be tired.” I’m babbling, I know I am, but I can’t seem to stop myself. “Still, I’m sure you have to get up early, and…oh shit. What are you going to do with—”

  “Mrs. Rizzo?” The nurse who collected Trinny earlier is standing in the doorway to the waiting room.

  “Ms., it’s Ms. Rizzo.”

  “Sorry, Ms. Rizzo, your daughter is back from X-ray. If you would come with me? The doctor will be with her shortly.”

  “Sure, yes, of course.” I get up and start after her when she disappears into the hallway, but in the doorway I remember my purse and coat. “Shit. I’ll be right there,” I call after her and turn on my heel, immediately losing my balance and stumbling back in the room.

  “Are you okay?” Joe is on his feet in a flash.

  “Fine, I’m fine.” I wave off his helping hand, already feeling like a complete moron. “You really should just go home.” I don’t wait for a response, grab my stuff, and rush into the hall to find the nurse.

  -

  “I’ll see you in my office in six weeks, young lady. Keep the cast dry, and no more snowboarding this winter, I’m afraid.”

  Trinny was lucky the break was clean. All it required was the bright blue fiberglass cast, covering her left arm all the way to her elbow. It still took a few hours before all was said and done and we walked out of the hospital. As my quick peek in the waiting room confirmed, our neighbor and his boys must’ve taken my suggestion and left. The big SUV is gone from its spot as well.

  “Well this sucks,” Trinny comments when we get on the road.

  “I’m sorry, honey. Six weeks will go fast though, I’m sure.”

  She huffs her disbelief and stares out the side window until we pass by Joe’s driveway and see the Sequoia parked in the driveway.

  “I should give Mr. B a call. Tell him I’ll be there tomorrow morning.”

  I pull in next to the pickup, turn the engine off and turn to my daughter. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea, sweetie. You’re bound to be in more pain tomorrow. You should give it a few days.”

  “No, Mom, I’ll die of boredom here, plus how else is Mr. B going to go to work? Besides, I need the money, otherwise I’ll never get my own wheels.”

  Trinny has been saving up for her own car with odd babysitting jobs, since she turned fifteen. She was thrilled when she got this steady one and has saved up quite a bit since starting with the Benedettis.

  “We’ll see. You go on inside, I’m just going to check with Mr. Benedetti.”

  “I can call him myself, Mom.”

  Christ, there are days when I hate that title.

  “It has nothing to do with what you can or can’t do, Trinny. It’s about what I should do—and I should go thank him for looking after you and waiting around the hospital.”

  I wait for her to get out—and without a word—stomp to the front door, before starting across the street. It’s not often, but from time to time my daughter’s temper tries my patience. Ironic, I know, given she probably inherited that particular Italian gene from her mother.

  The lights at the Benedetti house are still on, but I still opt to knock instead of using the doorbell. Those kids are probably in bed by now. It’s almost ten thirty.

  I wince when I hear the dog bark. Forgot about him. Some kind of shaggy-looking animal by the name of Bugsy, according to Trinny. I’ve seen the dog drag the boys around the block occasionally. I hear the lock turn on the door and put my best smile on.

  “Hey, how is Trinny?” Joe asks immediately when the spots me on his doorstep.

  “She has a shiny new sky blue cast.”

  “Oh no, I’m sorry.”

  “She should be right as rain in about six weeks. Anyway,” I quickly skip ahead. “I just wanted to thank you for tonight. For bringing her to the hospital, and waiting around. She insists she’ll be over to look after the boys tomorrow.”

  “Shouldn’t she rest?”

  “That was my suggestion, but she doesn’t seem to feel she needs it.”

  “Mind of her own?”

  I roll my eyes at that, making him grin, which by the way is a really fucking good look on him. “You have no idea. Anyway, I should be getting home. I just wanted to say thanks.” I don’t wait for an answer and start back down his steps.

  “Hey, Ollie?”

  “Yeah?” I turn to look back.

  “Goodnight.” I can see the white of his teeth as he grins at me.

  “Night.”

  I feel his eyes on my back the entire way across the road.

  Chapter 3

  Joe

  “Morning, Chief.”

  Mike Bolter, the desk sergeant, greets me when I walk into the station.

  “Mike. What have you got for me?”

  He hands me a folder. “A fucking flu epidemic. Four called in sick on the day shift. I’ve got two alternates coming in, but we’re gonna be short two patrol units. Also, Powers crashed his unit yesterday coming down College Drive. Fucking landed it at the bottom of the ditch. He’s fine; the unit’s a write-off. Not sure what the budget looks like—but we could use a replacement—we’re kind of thin.”

  “Isn’t Powers the one who—”

  “Yes, second crash in three months. Then there was that complaint made against him in December.”

  “Oh shit, that’s right. That was him too.”

  Bolter is referring to an incident during a simple traffic stop on Christmas Eve. Officer Powers had put a grandmother and her twelve-year-old granddaughter in handcuffs after pulling their car over for a busted taillight. The car had been full of gifts after a day of last-minute Christmas shopping, and he’d claimed to suspect the pair of shoplifting. He browbeat them into conceding to a search of their vehicle. The older woman had been able to produce receipts for all the items and he’d had to let them go, but not until after he’d scared them shitless. They were African American.

  The woman came in to the station the next day, accompanied by her lawyer, and launched a complaint against Powers, indicating the officer had smelled of alcohol when he pulled them over.

  The incident had resulted in an investigation into his actions and he’d been cautioned as a result, but there’d been no way to prove he had been under the influence at the time. I remember thinking he got off easy, but it appeared to be an isolated incident. Although, putting a twelve-year-old in cuffs was excessive, to say the least, if an officer feels his safety might be compromised, he is within his rights to detain individuals while conducting his investigation.

  “Is Powers on the schedule for today?”

  “He should be in at noon.”

  “Send him straight into my office when he gets here.”

  The rest of my morning is spent going over performance reviews I have to start next week, not something I’m looking forward to. Add that to some of the municipal committee obligations I've been r
oped into, these next two months won't be much easier than the past eight. So much for getting on top of things.

  Luckily Trinny showed up this morning to look after the kids, otherwise I would've had to work from home, which is not ideal. She claimed she would be fine, and that her mother was right across the street if it turned out she wasn't, but I still made her promise to call me for anything.

  Her mother. I wasn't expecting her at my door last night, wearing that ridiculous hat again, and I’d been tempted to invite her in but thought better of it. I don't think I'm ready for any involvement and that woman is far too intriguing. I'll be keeping my distance.

  I look up when there's a knock on my door.

  “Come in.” A sheepish looking Powers walks in the door, closing it behind him.

  “You wanted to see me, Sir?”

  “Have a seat.” I wait for him to sit down and lean forward with my elbows on my desk. “I understand you ran off the road yesterday on College Drive. What the fuck happened?”

  “I was distracted. I just spilled coffee on myself and was trying to wipe it up. My wheels caught the slush on the shoulder, and before I realized what was happening, I was heading down the ditch.”

  His eyes keep flitting up and to the left as he speaks, usually a sign someone is lying. I flip open the personnel file on my desk before turning back to him.

  “Seems to happen to you a lot—spilling coffee. This is almost the identical story you told me last time. I'm not sure what's going on, but from what I can tell prior to December you had zero incidents on your record. This will be your third in a little over three months. Anything you want to tell me?”

  I see his jaw working as he seems to think it over, but then he shakes his head. “Nothing, Sir.”

  It's clear something’s going on, but unless he's willing to tell me, there's nothing I can do to help.

  “Very well, in that case, you leave me no choice but to team you up. You will ride with Officer Conley and we will reevaluate in two months. I'll have Sgt. Bolter adjust the schedule. The department can't afford to lose any more cruisers—or officers—for that matter. You're dismissed.”