A Cop's Promise

by Sharon Hartley

  “You sure that’s the way you want to go?” Fritz demanded, eyeing her speculatively.

  Lana shrugged. “Why not?”

  “The product you’re talking about costs money.”

  “I’m okay with that.”

  “I’ll talk to Gary, see what I can do,” Fritz said. “No promises.”

  * * *

  AT TEN THIRTY that evening, Lana backed her unit into the protected space she used when she couldn’t eat with her fellow officers. Or when she needed some time alone during her break. In an industrial area of her sector, a concrete fence topped by barbed wire surrounded this nook on three sides so no one could approach from the rear and take her by surprise.

  While waiting for the statewide database to boot up—damn, the system had been slow all night—she unwrapped the burger she’d purchased at a drive-through, its familiar smell permeating the interior of the vehicle. While eating, she intended to run the plates she’d recorded since her sergeant had warned her off. Yeah, she’d leave a record of her keystrokes if somebody went looking, but she was willing to take this last chance. Surely the department had more important things to do.

  Like chase down the corrupt cops who were causing all the trouble in her department.

  She took a sip of her icy cola and entered the license digits from one of Gary’s customers. When the record came back, she jotted down the information and ran the name for wants or warrants. The first guy came back clean, but the vehicle had been a new BMW, so she wasn’t surprised.

  By the time Lana had finished her meal, she was three-quarters of the way through her list, having recognized a surprising number of repeat customers, most of whom had records. One was on parole, which was interesting. Maybe she could pull that thread. She had time left for maybe three more before the end of her break—unless a call came through, in which case she’d have to roll.

  It’d been a slow night so far, but anything could happen at any time. One of the reasons she loved her job.

  When the ping sounded, announcing the plate she’d entered had been located, Lana stared at the screen in disbelief.

  Coach Robertson? What the hell?

  She must have made a mistake.

  Lana ran the plate a second time, and the name Xavier Robertson came back again.

  Of course it did. There was no such thing as a coincidence in police work.

  She sat back in her seat as she processed the ramifications of this development. Holy shit. She checked her log and found the entry. Coach Robby had arrived at Gary’s at 2:00 a.m. last Wednesday night, which explained why she hadn’t recognized him. It’d been too dark.

  What was Coach Robby doing at Gary’s in the middle of the night? Oh my God. Was he a customer? What could Gary be selling that Coach would want? Gary’s friendly neighborhood market surely included more than steroids, but she’d assumed Coach’s drug of choice was alcohol.

  She thought back to the retirement party, trying to remember any interaction between Gary and Coach. Nothing popped out, but she hadn’t focused on Gary as a suspect until Chip told her about the bullying. Did Coach know that Dan had bullied Gary? Whoa. Had Coach also bullied Gary?

  It was beginning to look like the rumors of steroid use on Dan’s team were true. Maybe steroid use explained why Dan had such a short fuse that he would hit his girlfriend. Had Gary supplied steroids to Dan and other members of the championship team? And the product to fool the tests?

  No. If Coach had known, he’d have done something to stop it.

  Or would he? Everything she thought she knew about her high school past had been built upon shifting sands.

  Could Coach be Gary’s supplier? That would explain the late-night visit. Gary had to get his product somewhere, and Coach would have the connections. He’d been involved in high school athletics for decades and knew all the players, both savory and unsavory.

  Lana shut down the database, an uneasy feeling in her belly, suddenly wishing she’d get a call that would require her to roll. She didn’t want to think about an iconic figure from her high school days involved in illegal drugs sales. This was crazy. Sickening.

  She grabbed her phone from its holder by the door. She couldn’t wait to tell Chip about this latest development. She’d pick his brain about the relationship between Coach and Gary. She checked the time. Was he asleep? Was it too late to call?

  Then with a sharp stab of disappointment, she remembered. She drew in a quick breath as painful memories replaced the roller-coaster excitement of her discovery. How could she forget?

  Her collaboration, likely even her friendship, with Chip had ended. Chip wanted no part of solving Danny’s murder, was disgusted with the whole messy subject, with her. Especially now with his father so desperately ill. He’d shut her down in a heartbeat.

  And how could she blame him?

  Lana stared out of her windshield, into the dark night. She didn’t dare go to her sergeant with her findings. But, damn, Coach Robby’s visiting Gary in the middle of the night meant something. It had to. In her gut she knew she’d stumbled onto a significant lead. If not about Dan’s murder, then about the sale of illegal drugs in her city.

  But she was on her own. She’d boxed herself into a corner.

  What the hell was she going to do?

  * * *

  THE PHONE WOKE Lana the next morning at 11:00 a.m. Cursing, she reached for the device to terminate her chirpy ringtone, but the call went to voice mail before she could catch it. She glared at the readout. Damn. She’d missed several texts and messages.

  Too tired to care who was trying to reach her, she punched her pillow and rolled over. She wanted to go back to sleep. She was off today. She needed rest.

  No such luck.

  She’d sat up watching Gary’s home until 3:00 a.m. Even in bed, her brain refused to shut down. She kept hoping Chip would come home. And thoughts kept churning. Thoughts about Chip, about Coach, about Chip, about Gary. About Chip.

  Around and around, mostly about Chip.

  Would he ever come home? This was his home now, even if she hadn’t seen him in a while. A hospital bed had been moved into his old room in his parents’ home. He had nowhere to sleep there. So why wasn’t he here? With her.

  You know why.

  She rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling. What would Chip think if he knew about Coach? Maybe he’d agree that new development meant she should continue to investigate.

  More likely he’d turn away from her and tell her she was obsessed.

  She loved Chip, had probably always loved him but hadn’t realized it because she didn’t recognize what love truly looked like.

  Chip was nothing like her father. Or her brother. How could she have ever thought that? Yeah, he made demands on her, but only because he worried about her. He’d never tried to control her the way her father had controlled her mother.

  She pictured Chip as he’d been with his mother at the hospital, and knew with all of her heart that Chip was a good man who would never deliberately hurt her. But did he love her?

  He claimed to have had a crush on her in high school, but he also insisted he’d been protecting her since they were kids. She’d been so screwed up by the violence in her home that she couldn’t see the world for what it was. Including her brother.

  Especially her brother.

  She’d have been better off knowing who her brother had truly been. Chip should have told her.

  She squeezed her eyes shut. As long as she kept trying to solve Dan’s murder, Chip wanted nothing to do with her. Should she stop? Give in to please him? That sounded like something her mother would do to please a man, and that was the decision she’d wrestled with for hours last night: Was it time to accept the fact that her family would never learn who killed her brother?

  Could she live with that? Solving Dan’s murder had been her goal for so
, so long. No, Chip had nailed it. Her fricking obsession. She had to own that much at least, accept that her fixation on solving the murder had never been healthy. She’d latched on to the idea as a screwed-up teenager and never let it go.

  Just when she’d thought she could move on, her mother had begged her to keep looking. And she’d promised. And now she had this intriguing new lead.

  So why not see where her investigation into Coach led? One last thing. If she’d figured out the connection between Coach and Gary and it went nowhere, okay, that would be it. She’d accept the fact that she’d never solve the crime that had haunted her for so long.

  She had to wait to talk to Chip about a do-over, anyway. She couldn’t approach him until his father’s recovery was a done deal. For sure Chip didn’t need her messing with his head right now.

  Or was she wrong about that, too? Would clearing the air with Chip make him feel better?

  Lana groaned and rolled to her side again, pulling the pillow over her head. She was an idiot when it came to love. She’d been clueless about men her entire life.

  Her phone beeped, signaling an incoming message. Lana brightened the screen and read a text from Chip’s sister, asking for help relieving Mrs. Peterson for a few hours next Tuesday, “since you are now a part of the family.”

  A part of the family? Confused, Lana sat up and continued to read. Apparently the earlier call had been from Jan, who’d wanted to give as much notice as possible. Jan promised to call again later.

  Lana called back, got Jan’s voice mail and left a message confirming she’d do whatever she could to help, that she was available next Tuesday, could even come today if needed.

  Two voice mails were from her mother, demanding to know the progress of the investigation. Her spirits lifted when she saw Chip had left two texts and a voice mail.

  She placed the phone beside her in the bed. She needed to call Chip, but wanted to think about what to say. Did he know about Jan’s request? Helping out his family would give her a way to open lines of communication, a solid reason to talk to him about something other than murder.

  If they talked, she could tell him about Coach, convince him she didn’t need him to protect her.

  Or would he still demand she give up on finding her brother’s killer? How had her life come to this?

  Because she made poor choices. But she was done with that.

  She hugged her knees to her chest, wincing at sore muscles, courtesy of her week of intense workouts at South Miami Fitness. Thank goodness she didn’t have to pretend she was in training for a bodybuilding competition any longer. All that torture in the gym had been for nothing, since she hadn’t heard from Fritz. And she’d been so looking forward to informing Detective Clark she had solid proof that Gary was a dealer.

  Gary was too smart or too careful to sell his product to people he hadn’t vetted, and no one knew who this “Karen” person was. She’d given Fritz a number for a burner phone just in case he came through on her steroid request. If they checked out the information she’d given the gym for her trial membership, they’d discover it led nowhere.

  And I’m getting nowhere. Her sergeant was right. She didn’t have the experience or the training yet to be an investigating detective. All this frustration told her she had a lot to learn.

  Wide-awake now, Lana rolled out of bed and limped to the kitchen to brew tea. While waiting for the water to heat, she stretched her tight hamstrings.

  Someone banged on the front door as she poured boiling water into her mug.

  Wondering about her visitor, she moved to the door and checked the peephole.

  Gary Shotwell loomed in the doorway.

  * * *

  AFTER CLASS, CHIP flung his backpack on a table in The Bricks and again tried to reach Lana. Why the hell wasn’t she answering her phone? She’d worked late last night and had to be home.

  Of course, he wasn’t certain about that, since he’d spent a miserable night on his parents’ couch. But where else would she be?

  Had she missed him? Not likely. She was too busy trying to plot her next move in the never-ending investigation into her brother’s murder.

  Chip terminated the call. He’d left a voice mail and two texts, but she hadn’t responded. Glancing at his watch, he decided to run by the house and see if she was home. He had time before his next class, and he could take the opportunity to grab a quick shower. It’d been bedlam at his parents’ this morning.

  A niggle of worry ate at him, made him wonder where Lana was. If something could be wrong. Why wasn’t she returning his calls? Had she stumbled onto something and alerted a vicious murderer to her determined quest?

  He pictured Lana rolling her eyes, which was exactly what she’d do if she knew where his thoughts had wandered. How many times had she warned him not to worry about her, that she was a trained cop?

  She hadn’t been a police officer that evening she’d shown up on the corner with a Hello Kitty backpack full of clothing. She’d been frightened, but determined. He’d managed to talk her out of running away and had been looking out for her ever since.

  Lana wasn’t that frightened but determined little girl anymore. She was a grown woman, and definitely just as determined.

  His mental image shifted to her blissful face after they’d made love, the sheen of perspiration that had coated her flushed cheeks.

  Her outraged expression when he’d asked her to give up her investigation.

  He shook his head. What right did he have to demand Lana give up on the search for Dan’s murderer? Dan had been her brother, even if she hadn’t realized what a jerk he’d been. If Chip had told her the truth in high school, maybe things could have been different.

  * * *

  “WHAT CAN I do for you, Gary?” Lana yelled through the locked door. Her heart beat a rapid tattoo in her chest, making her voice sound breathless. Not liking the look on his face, she decided not to let him in. What the hell was he doing here? And why did he look so pissed?

  “Open up, Lana,” Gary shouted, banging on the door with something heavy. His fist?

  Every survival instinct she possessed slammed into alert. Something was off about Gary. Was he high? She was alone and this guy was a murder suspect. And a poster boy for Muscle Magazine.

  “I’m not dressed,” she said. “Can you come back later?”

  The next bang sounded like he kicked the door. Another thump. And again. Again.

  Lana stumbled backward in shock as the door burst open.

  “What the hell are you doing?” she demanded. “Get out.”

  Never taking her eyes off Gary, she moved backward toward her bedroom. Her gun was in her bedroom. A long way away.

  Too far.

  “We need to talk,” Gary said as he stormed into her home.

  “Talk about what?” she asked.

  “Chip hasn’t been around much lately,” Gary said, cracking his knuckles.

  “His father had a heart attack,” Lana explained as she scanned the living room for something to use as a weapon. Could she reach the boiling water in the kitchen before Gary caught her?

  “He’s spending a lot of time at the hospital.”

  Gary laughed, the sound so crazy and odd that she considered running for her gun. But she’d never make it.

  “Nah,” he said, serious again. “I don’t think that’s it.”

  “What are you—”

  “You guys broke up. Did he catch you watching my house?”

  Lana blinked. Shit. Gary knew she’d been surveilling him. Was he here to demand why?

  He took a step toward her, and she stepped away from him.

  “I know you’re into me, Lana. I’ve known it for a long time.”

  “What?”

  “Admit it. You want a piece of The Shotman.” He flexed his right biceps like some sort of demented
hulk. It would be comical if she wasn’t terrified. Gary thought she wanted him?

  His pupils were dilated. He was on something, but what? Depending on the drug, it could make him even stronger than he appeared.

  She dared not act afraid. Lana stood straighter and leveled a glare at her neighbor. “I want you to leave.”

  His smile faded. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Yes, you are.”

  “No way, Lana. You’ve been stalking me, and I’m going to give you what you want.” He laughed his maniacal laugh again. His gaze raked her body, then focused on her breasts. “What Chip apparently can’t give you.”

  “Stalking you?” Lana edged her way toward her bedroom and the security of her gun. Hot water would only enrage this brute, not stop him. If it came to a physical fight, no way could she best him. He outweighed her by a hundred pounds of solid muscle. Her police training might even the odds a little, but not enough.

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said. She was in real trouble here. If she didn’t come up with a strategy fast, Gary would rape her. Then maybe kill her. He’d already killed once.

  He could easily snap her neck.

  “Chip will be home any minute,” Lana said.

  “No way. He hasn’t been here for days. Chip is gone, but I’m here for you.”

  Near her bedroom door, Lana second-guessed her strategy. Was going for the gun a tactical error? She’d be trapped. Gary could toss her onto the bed.

  “Don’t be shy, babe. I know why you’ve been ogling The Shotman through binocs every night.”

  “No,” Lana said, trying to sound confident even as she backed away from him. “Gary, you’re—”

  “You were hoping for a glimpse of some Grade A meat. Am I right?”

  Some meat? This guy was sick and delusional.

  She stepped backward into her room and Gary followed her, his gaze steady on her chest. Out of the corner of her eye, she glimpsed her duty belt lying over a chair.

  Her Glock rested in the holster.