Going Deep

by Anne Calhoun

  “Eve’s on her way.” She checked the phone again, clicking between the Find My Friends app and the call, to make sure she was still muted. “I can’t believe he lied to me. I can’t believe he’s still in town. I trusted him. I’ve trusted him with every part of my career. I can’t believe this is happening.”

  Conn didn’t say anything. He knew how hard it was to trust and be let down, again and again. Cady’s face was pale, her eyes wide with shock and fear. “What else is he lying about? Is he really planning to talk to Eric about a different album? The way he presents that will make all the difference. What if he’s going behind my back and telling Eric I’m just being a diva, or that I don’t have the material, or that I can’t come up with it in time?”

  “Hey,” Conn said. He put his hand on her thigh. “One thing at a time. Confront him, and see what happens.”

  “How can I trust anything that’s happened up to now?” she said. “How do I trust what he’s said to the label, to anyone he’s in contact with about appearances, or the future? This changes everything.”

  The tires screeched as they roared into Eye Candy’s parking lot, startling Eve, who was getting out of a zippy-looking Altima. “What’s going on?” she asked, then caught Cady’s eye. “Cady, what’s wrong?”

  “I need to get into the bar,” Conn said.

  Eve didn’t question him, just unlocked the door. “Take Cady and stay in your car,” he said.

  “The hell you say,” Cady said indignantly. Chris’s voice was still coming through her phone, but now that the door was open, Conn could hear him in real time. He was upstairs, in Eve’s office. “

  “Who’s living in the apartment?” Conn asked, his hand on his weapon.

  “Natalie,” Eve said. “She moved in a couple of months ago. She was rooming with a passive-aggressive train wreck. My last tenant skipped without paying two months’ rent.”

  “That bites,” Cady said.

  “Matt tracked him down,” Eve replied with a steely glint in her eye.

  Conn didn’t doubt it. He held out his hand palm down to urge her to silence, and started across the dance floor. He’d spent plenty of time in this club, both before Dorchester walked in as a bartender, and during the investigation, but never when it was as silent as a predawn stakeout. He moved carefully, crossing the floor at a stealthy pace, and nearly jumped out of his skin when he turned to see Cady right behind him.

  “Jesus fuck,” he growled.

  “What? I snuck out all the time as a kid.”

  Eve was standing behind the bar, watching this play out.

  “That you, sweetie?” Natalie’s voice called out from the office.

  “Yeah,” Eve replied. “I need to do inventory.”

  “I’ll be down in a few.”

  “Take your time,” she called back.

  Conn gave her a little nod of thanks, and turned to find Cady tiptoeing up the wrought-iron staircase circling up to the office, eyes down and focused on not missing a step and cracking her knee on the metal risers. Conn used his hands to haul himself up the stairs two at a time. He caught her by the waist just as she reached the landing.

  “What the hell are you thinking?” he hissed.

  “He’s in there,” she whispered back. “He’s in there and he’s been lying to me, and scaring the ever-loving crap out of me!”

  “I know he’s in there,” he said stepping between her and the door, using his body to chivvy her against the railing. “I’m going in first.”

  “Stop doing that,” she said, shoving at his shoulders.

  In any other situation, he’d move, give ground, be respectful of her personal space, her body. But when they’d seen Chris’s dot in Lancaster, every instinct in his body shut down except one. Protect Cady at all costs. “Be quiet,” he said, low and dangerous, as he reached for his gun.

  At the quiet snap of his holster releasing his Glock Cady went utterly still and lifted her hands from his back, respecting, if nothing else, the fact that there was now a loaded gun in play. He took a second to call up the office layout from his previous visits to Eye Candy. Another door on the opposite wall opened into the tiny apartment Eve lived in before moving in with Matt earlier in the fall. Behind Eve’s office door came Chris’s voice like Conn had never heard it, soft, quiet, without his usual hint of arrogance and posturing. It didn’t sound like a guy talking during sex, thank God. It sounded intimate. Kind of sweet. Conn almost hated to interrupt, except Chris was probably a serial killer, using his itinerant profession as a cover for multiple murders around the world, and was now murmuring endearments in Natalie’s ear while he carved her up like a chicken.

  He took a single step across the landing and thudded his fist against the door. “Police. Open up!” he called, weight shifting to his left so he could kick the door in if Chris made a run for it.

  “Conn?” Natalie said. “Is that you?”

  It was really hard to be taken seriously when the individuals knew you by voice. “Open the door, Natalie,” he said.

  Silence, then the door flung open to reveal Natalie in 80s punk/goth mode. Black leather everywhere, black Joan Jett hair, and blue eyeliner. She cracked her gum at Conn. “Hello, Shoulders,” she said.

  Conn used his shoulders to barge into the office and look around. Chris was sitting on the sofa, one arm stretched along the back, the other on the arm, glaring daggers at Conn. “Nice to see you again, Officer McCormick,” he said blandly. “I assume Cady’s with you?”

  Cady pushed past him, into the office, and glared at Chris. “What are you doing here?” she said, exasperated, annoyed, afraid.

  “Having a delightful conversation with Natalie,” he said promptly. “What are you doing here?”

  “Trying to figure out what you’re doing here!” Cady took a deep breath. “You said you were going home.”

  “I did. Then I came back.”

  “To Lancaster?”

  “As you see,” Chris said. “Is that really necessary?” he added, glancing meaningfully at Conn’s weapon.

  Conn could handle drunks, drug dealers, thugs, pimps, and prostitutes. While chasing down suspects he’d tripped over cracks in the concrete, racked himself climbing over fences, and on one memorable occasion, knocked himself out cold falling down a flight of stairs in an abandoned warehouse. He’d been kicked, hit, spit on, and sworn at so much he all but sat up and looked around when someone yelled Hey motherfucker in his vicinity. None of it, not a single second in the academy, or his follow-up training, or his real-world experience that prepared him for dealing with Chris Wellendorf.

  Lacking the presence of either a threat or a fleeing suspect, Conn holstered his weapon, folded his arms across his chest, and squared up. Chris all but rolled his eyes.

  Cady took over. “I’m serious, Chris. You hate this town. You called Lancaster a one-horse shit-kicking ghost town in the middle of fucking nowhere and swore the only time you’d set foot here was when I gave a concert.”

  “It’s growing on me,” Chris said. He was talking to Cady but looking at Natalie as he spoke. She gave him a little finger wave. “There’s a great music scene here. The people are nice. Friendly.”

  Conn had never heard Chris use that soft, endearing tone of voice; based on the way Cady stared at him like he’d grown a second head, she’d never heard it, either. “You were right,” she said to Conn. “He’s acting really, really weird. Are you on crack? You’ve got to stop being on crack.”

  “Not even remotely,” Chris said, smiling like an idiot. He dragged his attention away from Natalie, and focused on Conn. He could see the moment the wheels in Chris’s brain gained some traction. “May I presume from Officer Tall, Dark, and Brooding’s heavily armed presence that you attribute a more nefarious purpose to my vacation in Lancaster?”

  His tone of voice was incredulous until his gaze met Conn’s. “Start taking this seriously or we’re going to step outside.”

  Everyone stared at him. After a few seconds of
really tense silence, Chris got to his feet. “You have my full attention,” he said, uncharacteristically solemn. “What’s going on?”

  Cady tugged Conn’s watch cap off her head and jammed it into her pocket. Her hair crackled into a crazy halo. “You’re what’s going on,” she all but shouted. “Conn knew you were hiding something. You lied to me about where you were!”

  “Cady, your throat,” Chris said, looking pained.

  Natalie looked around, then said, “Excellent point. I’ll make you some hot water with honey. Requests, you two?”

  “I’ll take a vodka rocks,” Cady said.

  “Cady,” Chris started.

  “Shut up. My nerves have been run through a shredder. I want a vodka rocks. Raspberry Absolut, if you have it. Which you two better not give me shit about. And the Cady juice.”

  “Queen Maud wants a vodka rocks, she shall have a vodka rocks,” Natalie said soothingly. “Conn?”

  “I’m on duty,” Conn said.

  “Water,” Natalie said decisively. “Chris?”

  “Whiskey. A double. If Cady’s drinking, so am I.”

  Natalie sashayed out, closing the door behind her. “What. Are. You. Doing. Here,” Cady said.

  “I came back for what I thought was a booty call. It was a spur of the moment thing I didn’t expect to last all week, but did, because life is unpredictable and glorious and I think I’m in love. Why?”

  Conn’s brain got stuck on the idea of flying somewhere for sex, and ground to a halt completely at the idea of Chris in love. He wrenched it back to the task at hand. “When did you come back?”

  “Early last week.” That matched with Conn’s timeline of when Chris started acting strangely.

  “The next day someone broke into Cady’s house,” Conn said. “The attacks on her website are coming from Lancaster. You’re here…”

  “You think I’d come back to Lancaster to drive Cady crazy?” Chris said, switching from serious to seriously pissed off in a split second.

  Conn didn’t move. “You fit the profile, and you have the most to lose.”

  “The most to lose?”

  “If Cady goes her own way and doesn’t drop the pop album.”

  Chris blinked. “For someone who knew nothing about the music business a couple of weeks ago, you’ve certainly picked up the lingo,” he said. “Yes, there’s a possibility she’ll make less money if she chooses to work on a more personal album, but I’m in this for the long haul. I believe in Cady, in her voice, her vision, the way she connects with her fans. While I’m very happy to make money managing her career, I’m working with you because you’re an artist I believe in, and am honored to work with,” he said, turning to Cady. He wasn’t pleading his case, just stating fact in simple, clear terms. So that’s what Chris sounded like when he was being sincere, not a manipulative smart ass.

  “But you’ve been pushing the label’s album so hard,” she said uncertainly.

  “Because that’s what I thought you wanted,” he said patiently. “Remember your career plan? When you started having second thoughts, I casually mentioned to Eric that you might want to go a different direction.”

  “Oh God. What did he say?”

  “What do you think he said? He fucking ripped my fucking head off,” Chris said. “But that’s my job, to take that flack for you so that when you and Eric actually talk, he’s had a chance to settle down.”

  Cady looked abashed. “I know you run interference for me,” she started.

  Chris overrode her, his voice escalating. “Yes, we probably won’t make as much money if you go with this album. But stranger things have happened, the label’s willing to take a listen, and to me, the money’s just a way of keeping score. Did you really think I was gaslighting you?”

  “You were obviously hiding something,” Cady objected.

  “I wanted to keep her for myself, just for a while,” Chris said, sharp and defensive. “I spend my professional life, which is my entire life, looking after other people’s careers, interests, futures, happiness. I’m not complaining. Trust me, I’m not complaining, but … I just … I’ve never met anyone like her before. I wanted to keep it for myself for a while.”

  Conn had to agree that Natalie was one of a kind. He relaxed his stance, watching Chris. “I’m sorry, Chris,” Cady said.

  “A little privacy. That’s all I wanted. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you the truth.” He cut Cady a glance. “You really thought I was gaslighting you,” he said, and this time it wasn’t a question.

  “Chris, you’re not exactly Mr. Sensitive, and lately you’ve talked an awful lot about marketing, cross promotion, and measures of success.”

  “Doing my job, Cady,” Chris said.

  “And I was doing mine,” Conn said. “You want to blame someone for this situation, blame me.”

  “I do,” Chris said. He cut Conn a look that was both assessing and speculative in a way that put Conn on high alert. He’d seen that look before, and it was usually followed up with a shrieking phone call to his lieutenant and Conn getting his ass reamed. In this case, he deserved it. In the space of a week he’d managed to wreck years of trust between Cady and Chris. The relationship might never recover. “But let’s put a pin in that for the moment, shall we? I’m not trying to drive Cady insane. Who is?”

  Conn opened his mouth to reply, but shut it again when Natalie knocked on the door, then opened it without waiting for a response. “One Raspberry Absolut, one Macallan, and two waters with lemon, because it tastes better and makes it kinda fancy, for the working folk.” She distributed the drinks. Cady perched on the edge of a chair and swallowed a third of her vodka; Chris knocked back the Macallan in one go. Conn sipped his water and made a mental note to buy some lemons. Finally Cady looked from Chris to Conn. “We can talk about it later, Chris.”

  He looked at her, obviously startled. “Okay.”

  “After all, you’re on vacation. Conn’s got this.”

  Chris held out his hand to Natalie, who took it, slid onto his lap, teased his nearly full glass from his hand, and sipped the Macallans.

  Conn looked away, almost uncomfortable with the delight in Chris’s eyes.

  “We’re out,” she said, and suited actions to words.

  She didn’t look at him as they walked through the nightclub and outside to the car. Conn waited until they were back in the Audi before saying, “I was wrong about that.”

  “You were half right,” Cady said. “He was lying about where he was. What now?”

  Her voice was cooler, distant, lacking the casual intimacy they’d shared on the way over. A sense of foreboding filled Conn’s chest. The cameras would be the ultimate betrayal now. He’d been hoping and praying it was Chris, because the next alternative up for consideration, without telling Cady he’d put surveillance on the house, was door number two: Kenny.

  “I need to go see someone,” he said as he pulled out of Eye Candy’s parking lot. He squinted out the window; the sky had clouded over to the kind of gray that looked dismal but held enough light to need sunglasses.

  “Okay,” she said. “Who?”

  “I can’t tell you.” At her look, he added, “It’s better for you if you don’t know.”

  “Is it dangerous?”

  Maybe. He hesitated, and in that silence she got her answer. “You figured out who framed you for that assault. And now you’re going to see him.”

  “Yeah,” he said quietly.

  A few silent minutes later they pulled into an empty space on the street across from the Eastern Precinct. Conn put the car in park, then he took her phone from her hand and added Dorchester to her contacts. “Get in the driver’s seat. If I’m not out in twenty minutes, you leave and call Dorchester. He’ll make sure you’re safe.”

  “We’re at the police station,” she said. “Why not just go … oh. No. No way am I letting you go in there by yourself.”

  “Cady, if this is as bad as I think it is, you’re being targeted, too. For
me. Please. Get in the driver’s seat and keep the car running. If I don’t come out, you call Matt Dorchester and tell him I’m down and you need help.”

  “Not Lieutenant Hawthorn?”

  Conn shook his head.

  “You don’t know if he’s involved.” It wasn’t a question, and based on the way her brows drew down, he was reordering her entire world.

  “I want him not to be involved,” Conn said. But the last nagging puzzle piece had fallen into place. Hawthorn’s dad, the former chief of police and current mayor, had trained Kenny.

  How long had this been going on? How deep was the corruption? Did it spread from the gang unit to the chief’s office to the mayor’s office?

  Cady pulled his watch cap lower on her head and tucked her braid down the back of her jacket. She hurried in front of the Audi and slid behind the wheel. One arm on the frame, the other on the door, Conn hunkered down on his heels.

  “Twenty minutes,” he repeated. “If I’m not out by then, you bolt. If you see someone coming toward you, you put it in gear and head for the back roads. Try to lose him in the alleys.”

  “That sounds like a good strategy, except this car stands out like a pink elephant.” Cady flexed her hands on the wheel. “I should have bought a tan Accord. Something that blended in.”

  “It’s not safe.” Conn looked at the ground, tried to think of another strategy, and came up empty. “It’s the best I can do for you right now.”

  “Go.” She leaned over and kissed him, hard and fierce and possessive, then handed him the folder. “I’ll be here when you get back.”

  * * *

  Conn walked into the precinct he’d been assigned to for the entirety of his career as a Lancaster police officer. The two cops smoking outside the back door nodded in greeting. He walked down the hall past interview rooms and offices. Nothing was different, except there were more presents under the tree. The noise from the bullpen reached his ears, faint but familiar—ringing phones doubling up on each other, uniformed and plainclothes officers coming and going, televisions scrolling their black lines of closed captioned text in all four corners of the squad room.