by Freya Barker
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Not sure what the hell Katherine Carey and her weasel of a son are doing here, but at least I know they’re not out bothering Ollie while I’m stuck in this meeting.
Dylan is sticking with Trinny and the boys at my place, waiting for me to get home. Ramirez is driving Ollie to Farmington to pick up the bags of mulch from the supplier her delivery was short. The official opening of her project is Saturday, which makes this crunch time for her.
It’s also why I’m sitting in a council meeting on a Tuesday evening, discussing security and road closures, because fucking Katherine Carey is determined to turn the opening of a goddamn memorial garden into the fucking Oscars. With a list as long as my arm of invited guests—the who’s who of the entire Four Corners area—she’s made what should have been a simple traffic flow issue, into a logistical nightmare.
This does not make me happy. It especially does not make me happy, because in doing so, I have to put every damn officer I have on this detail. Given the guys I have are at max hours, it means I’ll have to fork out time-and-a-half when my thin budget is already stretched to the max.
“Chief Benedetti?” I look up to find the mayor looking at me. “Any input?”
Stan Woodard may be easily swayed by the Carey family’s standing in town, but he’s a decent man concerned about his constituents, which is why he’s checking in with me since I’m the one responsible for their safety.
I glance over at Mrs. Carey and her son, who both are clearly not happy I’ve been handed the floor. They’ll be less happy when I say what I have to say.
“The department is down to a bare minimum of officers, not to mention we’re already working on a drastically restricted budget. Given that I’m only now made aware simple traffic assistance will not be enough to facilitate Mrs. Carey’s proposed requirements, I’m afraid it’ll be impossible for me to meet those within the limitations of both staffing and budget.”
“Mr. Benedetti,” she says sharply, drawing my attention.
“It’s Chief Benedetti, Mrs. Carey,” I correct her.
“So it is.” The calculated smile on her face promises nothing good. “Kind of you to remind me. It begs the question whether the position and trust you’ve been awarded, by the city council so recently, was perhaps misplaced?”
“Mrs. Carey,” the mayor interrupts, but Katherine turns to him with a hand raised defensively.
“I’m merely wondering if Mr., I mean Chief Benedetti has not bitten off more than he could chew, given his wife’s untimely death, and caring for those two precious young boys by himself.” I grind my teeth, trying to keep my temper from flaring, but I’ll be damned if I give her what she’s obviously angling for. At her next words, I lose my battle and shoot up from my chair. “It has also come to my attention those may not be the only distractions he—”
“Mrs. Carey!” Stan beats me to it, and this time is a lot more forceful about it. “We are not here to discuss Chief Benedetti’s performance—which, by the way, has been more than satisfactory—and the points he brings up are valid. So let’s focus on those, and leave any concerns you might perceive around Chief Benedetti’s appointment for a more appropriate setting.”
Still fuming at her insinuations, although somewhat lessened at the bitch’s duly chastised expression, I sit back down.
Forty-five minutes later, I walk out with approval to hire temporary outside security—coming out of Katherine’s pocket—and injection of eighty thousand dollars into the department budget, to cover off any overtime plus the addition of one more full-time officer to the roster.
I’m actually smiling as I walk to my SUV.
“Dangerous to smile too soon, Chief.” I swing around at her voice to find both Careys standing beside a decked out Cadillac Escalade. Katherine’s, I’m sure.
“Never a good idea to cross Mother, Benedetti,” her son adds.
“Threatening the chief of police doesn’t exactly rank up there with smart moves either,” I observe.
“No threat, simply a friendly word of caution,” he returns, a conceited smirk on his face.
Friendly word of caution, my ass. I bite off a sharp retort, lift an eyebrow, and turn to unlock my ride.
Looks like I gained an enemy.
Or two.
Ollie
Figures something would go wrong at the eleventh hour.
I’ve been hauling ass to make sure the garden is ready for Katherine’s walk-through, which I managed to hold off until tomorrow. Since Sunday I’ve barely had time to think about Christian, the Montenegro family—or Joe—for that matter. Although he’s come up a few times while I was trying to get to sleep the past couple of nights.
I swear I could feel the moment he turned cold again, walking in after taking Grace home. That’s why Sunday afternoon I insisted on heading home, needing to touch base with both Blake and Katherine. Joe made me promise to lock myself inside. Trinny opted to stay a bit longer, to enjoy the pool, and it gave me peace of mind to know he’d keep an eye on her.
All the lines for the water feature have been buried, the plants are in, and the last thing this afternoon is to cover the soil with the special black mulch I’d ordered from Lillywhite Stone in Farmington. The bags had been delivered over the weekend, but not counted, and it wasn’t until we started spreading that we discovered we were short. Ten bags short on the order. The supplier was apologetic but the earliest they’d be able to deliver would be Thursday, and that wasn’t going to work for me. The only way I’d get the garden done before tomorrow’s walk-through was to drive to Farmington to pick them up myself.
One of Joe’s guys, Detective Ramirez, followed me to the park earlier and had stayed at a distance while Blake and I worked. The moment he saw me aim for the parking lot, though, he fell in step, asking where I was going. He not only insisted on coming, he literally took my keys right from my hand and announced he’d be doing the driving. Which is why I’ve been staring out the side window on the passenger side for the past fifteen minutes, holding onto my snit, when he leans forward and turns down the radio.
“So, you and Joe?”
I swing around and pin him with a glare. “There’s no me and Joe.”
“You sure?” he asks, turning to me with a nice white smile.
Little does he know his charm won’t work on me. He reminds me too much of Vito, same dark eyes and hair, same olive complexion, and the same bright white smile. Handsome as sin and knows it too.
“Positive,” I confirm, facing forward to indicate I’m done with this conversation. It doesn’t seem to stop him.
“Joe fuck it up already?”
My mouth falls open and my head swings around. “Excuse me?” He flicks his eyes to me before settling them back on the road ahead.
“Known him a good fifteen years. Worked by his side for six years—stood by his side at Jenny’s funeral—never seen his attention go anywhere but to his family or his job, until a few weeks ago.”
“I don’t know what you’re saying.”
It’s part truth, part lie. I’m not an idiot, I know what he’s implying, but I have my doubts about how accurate his assessment is, since all I’ve gotten is mixed messages.
“I’m saying you caught his attention; he wants you.”
“Look, Detective Ramirez—”
“Tony.”
“Fine, Tony, you sound confident in that conclusion, but let me assure you, your friend has no idea what he wants.”
He turns his eyes one me again, one side of his mouth pulled up. “Give him time.”
I decide to ignore that statement, and forget the conversation preceding it, by turning up the radio and focusing on the passing landscape. Luckily, he takes my not so subtle hint and drops the subject.
The rest of the trip is silent again, until we get to the supplier.
“Sit tight while I load up,” he orders me, like the frail damsel he obviously thinks I am. Rather than get into another verbal contest with the man, I simply get
out of the truck, haul the nearest bag over my shoulder—like I normally do when I pick up supplies—and dump it unceremoniously in the truck bed, before returning for the next. Granted, he does seven in the time it takes me to do the remaining three, but I know he gets the message when he says, “Point taken,” on a grin.
The sun is starting to go down when we get back to the park. Blake called me when we got on the road again to let me know he had to pick up his kid from soccer practice, and I told him I’d finish up. What I didn’t count on was Detective Tony Ramirez rolling up his sleeves and helping.
“Take half the time if we do it together. I’ll dump, you spread.”
Surprisingly, we work well together, but it’s still dark by the time we’re done.
“Thanks.” I smile at him as I’m wiping the sweat off my forehead. My stump is killing me, but I know I should have my check by Friday, and I already have an appointment lined up for next Tuesday to get this one adjusted and my new one measured and ordered. I can handle one more week.
“No problem. Saves me hitting the gym on my way home.” He winks as he walks to his car. “Gonna follow you, make sure you get inside okay and Colter is in place,” he calls over his shoulder.
I could protest, but I’m pretty sure that would be energy wasted.
He doesn’t just follow me home; he pulls in my driveway behind me, insists on opening my door for me, and has me wait in the small hallway while he makes sure the place is secure. It’s nice. So nice, I don’t bother reminding him of the state-of-the-art security all over my house.
“All clear,” he says, coming down the stairs.
“Thanks.” I open the front door for him.
“No problem.” He steps on the porch and pauses, like he forgot something. To my surprise, he turns back, lifts his hand, and brushes his thumb along my cheek. “Dirt,” he mumbles by way of explanation, before bending down and kissing me on the cheek he just cleaned. “I like you for him.”
Stunned, I watch him walk away, but then my attention is drawn across the street, where a very angry-looking Joe is standing at the end of his driveway.
Chapter 14
Joe
“You wanted a word?”
I look up from the schedule I’ve been struggling with most of the morning. Even with the extra budget room for manpower, three days isn’t enough to hire an extra man on the force, so I’m still thin on actual bodies to cover off both regular patrols and tomorrow’s event. Won’t be able to swing it without asking for a favor, as well as adding myself to the schedule. Luckily, the bus taking the boys to camp tomorrow morning leaves at eight, which gives me enough time to give the guys a quick briefing at the station before we head over to Santa Rita Park for the opening at eleven.
“Have a seat,” I invite Keith, indicating the chair on the other side of my desk. “I assume you’ve got someone on Ollie?”
“She’s home. Colter is keeping an eye out.”
“Good. Hate to do this, man. I know you’ve got a little one at home you’d prefer spending your Saturday with, but even with the two agents Gomez is lending me, as well as the guys I managed to contract from GFI, I’m short one more body for this Memorial Garden thing tomorrow.” The GFI security team was a suggestion from Damian when I told him I was looking for muscle. Apparently, he’s worked with them before and speaks highly of them.
“How long is this shindig supposed to be?”
“Fuck if I know. According to the itinerary less than an hour, but you know how these things go. We have both the mayor and Mrs. Carey on the list for speeches, and those two like to hear themselves talk. Plus, apparently there’ll be refreshments after. I’m hoping we can shut things down by two.”
“As long as I can get out of there by two, I’m good,” Keith confirms, and I let out a sigh of relief.
“Great. Be good if you could be at the station by nine, I plan do a quick run-through.”
“I’ll be there.” Keith pushes out of the chair and starts to walk to the door when he pauses. “You spoke to Olivia at all?”
I haven’t. Haven’t even seen her since Tuesday night. Burned my gut, watching her with fucking Ramirez. Talked to him five minutes after he left her house to inform him Blackfoot would be taking over, but I didn’t wait to hear his excuses.
“Nope,” is my curt answer. “Why?”
“Wednesday Katherine Carey left right after their meet at the park. Olivia wanted a quick word with the contractor, so I waited in my car. Five minutes later, I see her stalking to her pickup, Josh Carey on her heels.” I grind my teeth, that fucker apparently can’t take no for an answer. Clenching my hands into fists under the desk, I wait for Keith to finish. “Don’t know where the fuck he came from, probably left his car on the other side of the park. He got in her face, but before I had a chance to intervene, she shoved him off and got in her truck. When I asked her about it, after following her home, she brushed it off, said everything was fine. She didn’t look fine. Was hoping she might’ve mentioned it to you.”
“I’ll take care of it.”
“You know, if you want I can—” he starts but I cut him off.
“I said I’ll take care of it.”
Blackfoot takes a good look at my face before his mouth twitches. “Don’t doubt you will,” he says, and walks out.
It takes me another hour to work out all the logistics for tomorrow and enter them in my computer. I print it out the schedule and a copy of the itinerary, snag my phone and my keys, and walk over to the front desk, where I hand the file to Bolter.
“Need fifteen printouts of this, and include a detailed map and satellite shot of the park in the package. Be in at eight thirty tomorrow.”
“You’re leaving?”
“Yup, you need me, call me, but I’ve got kids heading out for camp first thing in the morning. I’ve got shit to do.” Not waiting around for a response, I head out.
One thirty on a Friday afternoon, on the last day of school, makes for heavier than usual traffic. It takes me almost ten minutes longer to get home, and by that time, I’ve had a chance to work myself up about the upcoming confrontation.
Ollie
It’s been a busy few days. Between the final touches at the park, and getting Trinny ready for her epic trip to Europe, I’ve barely allowed myself a chance to think.
This morning, though, after seeing Trinny off to school, I find my mind churning. About the upcoming two weeks without my daughter, something that—other than the occasional day trip or sleepover—has never happened. About my brother, his whereabouts, and the trouble he appears to have gotten himself—and possibly me—into. Finally, there’s Joe’s pointed absence since I saw him staring at me from across the road, before he turned on his heel and disappeared into his house, leaving me with a painful tightness in my chest.
All combined it makes for a headache-inducing maelstrom of worries.
With the garden ready for tomorrow’s reveal, and Trinny’s laundry washed and suitcase packed, there’s little for me to do and the walls are closing in on me. I tried reading but couldn’t concentrate. Then I watched some Netflix, a movie called Bird Box, but when I started identifying with Sandra Bullock’s character, trying to navigate through life blindfolded with danger lurking everywhere, I gave up on that as well.
A glance at the clock shows it’s almost time for the kids to come home. Last day of school, so they’ll be dismissed early. I fire up my computer to see if my pay has been deposited to my account yet, but my fast dwindling account balance doesn’t show the financial injection I’ve counted on.
Dammit.
Katherine was supposed to bring a check on Wednesday, but didn’t. When I reminded her she claimed to have forgotten, but would transfer it straight into my account as soon as she got home. Clearly that didn’t happen. It didn’t happen yesterday either, so I sent her a friendly reminder and a copy of the contract and invoice via email. No answer.
Today my account still looks anemic.
Grab
bing my phone, I dial her number. It rings five times before sending me to voicemail.
“Hi, Katherine, it’s Olivia Rizzo. I’m sure you’re busy and forgot with everything going on, but I haven’t seen your payment come in yet. It would be very helpful if you could clear that up at your earliest convenience.”
I should never have agreed to letting her pay me directly, but she ensured me it would be much faster than to run the payment through the city. Bureaucracy being what it is, I’ve waited for payments from the city for as long as six weeks. Given the timing, it seemed like the better option. I still need to give Trinny the money for her trip, and I have that expense for my prosthesis coming up. As it is, I’m going to have to find my way to the bank and see if I can get a small temporary loan against my house. I don’t want to have to dip into my 401(k), since that’s supposed to be my retirement money, and it’s not like I have a corporate pension to look forward to.
I’m just putting my phone down on my desk, when it rings.
“Hello?”
Even as I’m speaking, I hit myself over the head. Eager to hear from Katherine, I didn’t check call display first—again. All I hear is rustling so I repeat, “Hello?”
“Don’t hang up…” the voice whispers and I recognize my brother right away. “They have eyes on you. I need you to listen to me.”
I feel goosebumps rising on my skin from my scalp down my spine. My eyes instantly dart to the window where the police cruiser is parked, even as I try to reason with my brother. “No, Christian, what you need is to turn yourself—”
“Fuck, Ollie, it’s too late. They found me.”
A cold fist closes around my heart. “What do you—”
“I don’t have much time. Get safe. I—”
I hear a loud crash in the background, then glass breaking.
“Christian?”
The blast of what sounds like a gunshot is ear-splitting, but I can still hear my brother’s deep grunt. Silence follows and my heart lurches in my chest.