“Hawks, you and Paluzzi take the back. Paxton and I will come in through the front and initiate.” Trent moved away from the squad car.
Trent signaled for Violet to take the left side of the house while Sal took the right.
She quickly ran around the perimeter of the yard, keeping close to the forsythia and pines for cover. The house was dark. The Chrysler was parked in the drive, very close to the garage. The Buick was behind it.
Trent had the warrant with him, but none of the officers expected a clean search. The Chicago PD detectives on Richard Schmitz’s team had followed a shipment to Indian Lake. Richard had alerted Trent, and once the dealers’ car was spotted heading into Indian Lake County, Trent’s team took over. Trent told Violet and the team that he expected the heroin to be stashed in the farmhouse basement.
Violet was the first to the rear of the house and pressed her back against the wall. She noted the garage was dark. Though there was a shipment that had come in, Violet did not see any gang members inside. They had yet to start cooking meth.
Sal came around the right, his gun drawn and held up in the air.
“Police!” came Trent’s voice from the front of the house.
She held her breath, poised for action.
“Police!” Trent banged on the door. The sound could probably be heard a hundred yards away, Violet thought.
Immediately, she heard voices speaking in Spanish. She peered under the back door steps, where she saw a light coming from the basement window.
She signaled Sal and pointed to the basement window.
“Open up! Police!” Sal shouted.
Sal nodded back to Violet. He moved closer to the back steps.
She heard curses in both Spanish and English. Feet pounded on stairs.
“I’m coming in!” Trent’s voice was nearly drowned out by the sound of the front door crashing open.
A shot was fired, but Violet didn’t know from whom. She saw a flash of light from the interior as another shot rang through the house.
“Stop where you are!” Trent shouted.
Wham! The back door blasted open and slammed against the back wall. Two men rushed out.
“Police! Stop!” Violet yelled.
The first man through the door was young, fit and no taller than she. He wore a black hooded sweatshirt, jeans and sneakers. He held a gun.
Sal rushed forward, flung himself at the guy and pushed him to the ground.
The second man was rotund, not over thirty and wore a sleeveless white undershirt and baggy jeans that impeded his run. Violet took off after him. “Police! Stop!” she yelled.
He cursed at her and kept running.
Indignation stirred her into action as she poured on the heat and leaped onto the guy’s massive, hairy back. She encircled his thick neck with her arm and yanked. He stumbled and fell, taking Violet with him.
He cursed her again.
“Shut up!” She bolted to her feet, which she kept shoulder width apart for stability as she leaned down. With the flat side of her right palm, she knifed him on the side of the temple, then on the throat, incapacitating him. He gurgled and was just about to grab her ankle, when she pulled her gun and leaned down and held the barrel under his nose.
“You were saying?”
Trent rushed up with his gun un-holstered. “I got this, Hawks.”
“Sir. Yes, sir,” she replied dutifully.
Trent hauled the guy to his feet. “Cuff him, Hawks.”
As Violet pulled the obese man’s hands behind his back, she began, “You have the right to remain silent...”
He spat on the ground and cursed her again.
Trent growled through clenched teeth, “Keep it up and I’ll lock her in the cell with you. Obviously, you’re no match for her.”
* * *
WHILE BOB PAXTON cuffed a skinny gang member who looked more like a user than a dealer to Violet, and whom Bob said he’d found huddled in the bathtub, Violet led the obese guy to the squad car. Sal followed with the man he’d cuffed. With all three criminals in custody, Violet then accompanied Trent to the farmhouse basement where they found hundreds of pounds of heroin and cocaine.
She should have felt proud of her involvement with the task force, but she didn’t. Just this morning, she’d declared her love to Josh and she really did believe they had feelings for each other. But she’d still put her job first, all the while knowing that if Josh had lied to her about his participation with Miguel, she’d choose her job and justice over her love for him. She’d betray the first real love she’d ever had. Violet was committed to her career. First, last, always.
“All this,” Trent said, and flung the pack of heroin down onto the dirt floor. “And we still don’t have Garcia.”
He pounded up the stairs. Violet followed. She might have been able to bring down one of the gang members, but no one was as good as Trent Davis at interrogation.
* * *
AT TWELVE PAST THREE in the morning, Violet was convinced that no bullet would kill her faster than the continued diet of vending machine snacks, drive-through breakfast burritos and day-old doughnuts, which seemed to be the only fare her fellow task force members preferred.
She tossed a cheese and salsa saturated burrito paper into the trash. “I’m taking Mrs. Beabots up on her offer to teach me how to make sugar pies.”
“Great,” Sal said, handing her a cup of coffee.
“Is this fresh?”
“No. Why?” he asked, lifting his own Styrofoam cup to his mouth and drinking deeply. He grimaced. “I see your point.”
“How long can this go on?” Violet asked, pointing down the hall to the interrogation room.
“All night. That’s the point. By dawn, the perp will be frustrated, tired, hungry and willing to spill. Even for a cup of this—” he put the cup down and folded his hands “—very bad excuse for coffee.”
“Makes sense,” she replied, then stood and took Sal’s cup. “I’ll go make fresh coffee. It will help.”
“Dream on,” Sal joked.
Just then Trent walked out of the interrogation room and slammed the door.
Violet could tell her boss wasn’t happy.
Sal asked, “You want me to take over?”
“I don’t think it will do any good. None of them are talking. They’ve called an attorney, some Chicago hotshot. But we’ve got them. The heroin and cocaine have been moved here to the evidence room, the farmhouse has been taped off and forensics is out there now. They may turn up something. Meanwhile, these guys will be arraigned in the morning.”
“What are you going to do?” Violet asked.
“Get some sleep. All of us are. We’ll hit it hard tomorrow.” He turned to Violet. “One more thing. I’ve delayed bringing Stevens in for questioning, hoping you’d find a link between him and Miguel. Frankly, I thought Stevens might be involved with Miguel’s gang. Even the ringleader—with all his money, I was suspicious. The lack of evidence he’s given you isn’t enough to absolve him of suspicion, though. It’s time to bring Josh Stevens in for questioning.”
Violet kept her expression cold as stone. That was how she felt. Bloodless. She put the coffee cup down so she wouldn’t spill it now that her hands felt numb.
This was it.
The moment of truth. Josh was either guilty or innocent.
And yet...
Approximately sixteen hours ago he’d declared his love for her. She’d told him she loved him back, and she did. That had been her moment of truth. It had just rushed out of her heart like his race car, speeding to victory. She hadn’t once thought of slowing things down, because he was the one she wanted. She wanted to give her heart to him.
He’d arranged for the antique Daimler to be at the museum for her. It was the most romantic throwback moment for a man whose passion was cars.
He’d told her that he’d never loved anyone.
Until her.
Violet was riding the razor’s edge. If Josh was guilty and she let justice take its course, she would lose him forever. But if she let him walk when she shouldn’t, she would be busted back to traffic cop or dismissed from the force. Either way—she’d lose.
She swept her palm across her forehead and over her slicked-back hair.
Josh can’t be involved with Miguel.
There’s gotta be an explanation as to why he’d go off with Miguel.
“Hawks? You okay?” Trent asked.
“Yes, sir. Fine.”
“You look beat.”
Sal laughed. “She should be. You shoulda seen the way she took that guy down. He was twice her size.”
“I saw enough to know you’re an asset to this team, Officer Hawks,” Trent said.
“Thank you, sir.”
“Because you’ve been on top of this investigation, I’m assigning you and Paluzzi here to bring Stevens in. The gang activity is heating up, and we can’t afford to let them slip by us. With this bust, Garcia might blow out of town. Clock’s ticking.”
Violet’s mouth went dry. “You’re issuing a warrant, sir?”
“No. Just bring him in for questioning. If he refuses, we’ll get the warrant. See you both in the morning.”
“Good night, sir,” Violet said. Her stomach lurched.
Sal stepped away. “Guess we don’t need that coffee anymore, huh?”
“No. We don’t,” she replied.
Sal went to his desk, grabbed his cell phone and waved as he passed.
Violet didn’t feel like going home where she’d be alone with her guilty thoughts. She glanced around the nearly empty office, quiet now except for the hum of an oscillating fan.
I guess it doesn’t matter where I am, I can’t escape my feelings.
If Josh still felt about Miguel the way he had when they were young in the foster home, would he want to protect his “brother” at all costs? Even at the cost of losing me?
Was she a fool to give her love to Josh who had no ironclad ties to Indian Lake or to her?
In the end, if Violet could bring Miguel to justice and put him in prison for the rest of his lifetime, she’d do it.
She ground her jaw at the thought. She despised criminals. Anyone who would mistreat, hurt, kill, maim or dupe another person deserved punishment. Those who could be rehabilitated should be, but from what she’d learned about Miguel, he liked working the dark shadows. He liked turning up his nose at law and order.
Violet saw that she was guilty of using Josh to bring intel about Miguel to the surface. She’d had to. Maybe it was seeing the faces of Isabelle’s kids and knowing a dealer lurked on the next street corner somewhere in their future, if she didn’t do something. Maybe it was the fact that drugs in her lovely town were twisting it and making it less safe. And all that was more important than her own needs and wants.
And loves.
The greatest loss she’d ever encounter was the loss of Josh’s love for her. But if it meant bringing Miguel to justice, she’d roll those dice.
She turned off the computer and headed toward the door. He had admitted that he knew she was investigating him. But she’d also told him she loved him. Would he think she’d lied?
No question. When she returned in the morning, Josh would have a new name for duplicity. He’d call it “Violet.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
JOSH HAD NEVER understood what a “giddy teenager in love” meant when he’d heard about it in songs, but he was walking on air now.
Despite the fact that he’d only seen Violet once more, since he’d told her he loved her and, miraculously, she’d told him she loved him back, Josh couldn’t ebb the nonstop flow of visions his head was spinning.
Yet each time he thought about their romance, his logic blasted him with the fact that he’d held back plenty from Violet. Josh had been in contact with Miguel, but not for the reasons he was all too sure the cops suspected. Josh was desperate to persuade Miguel to leave Indian Lake. He’d tried and failed to talk his former friend into going straight—since they were kids. If Miguel was determined to stay part of the drug world, Josh told him, in no uncertain terms, to take his business elsewhere.
What Josh also knew was that Miguel was seriously considering expanding his gang to Tennessee. There was a small town called Cookeville, not far from Nashville, that suited their purposes just fine. Rural areas. Lots of places to hide and still traffic their goods.
Josh had held back going to the cops with his information, hoping that he might discover even more.
His feelings for Violet and his relationship with Miguel twisted his insides at times. He would have given anything to pursue a romance with Violet like a normal person, but he was under no illusions. He’d created his own time bomb by falling for Violet, and yet, he couldn’t and wouldn’t let her go. He was determined to find a way to draw her closer.
As committed as she was to her career, which was one of the things he loved about her, he believed she was a closet romantic. He’d seen that in the feminine clothes she wore whenever she was out of uniform. He’d taken a chance on his observation when he’d called the Los Angeles Museum and arranged for the Daimler rental.
The Daimler represented another era, when life was like a slow-moving river. People took time to discover nuances of each other. He wanted Violet to know that he’d put his whole heart on the line for her.
Because it was the first time he’d ever told a woman that he loved her, the moment was important for him, too.
He hadn’t figured that her job would yank her away from him so quickly. That night he’d wanted to see her for dinner, but she was called to duty. Apparently, that same order kept her from him the following day and evening.
Finally, on the second night, Josh couldn’t stand not seeing her. He texted her and asked what time her shift was ending. She’d texted back that she was hoping to be home by ten and go right to sleep.
Josh asked if she could see him for fifteen minutes, and Violet had agreed.
Josh then arranged with Mrs. Beabots to “borrow” her gazebo in the backyard for that evening.
Since it was the middle of summer, the sun didn’t go down till after nine o’clock. Fireflies glittered in the rosebushes and spruce trees. Josh bought a bouquet of sunflowers and lit two citronella candles in the gazebo to ward off mosquitoes.
When Violet’s car came up the drive and parked in back, Josh stood up instantly. Then sat back down. He was nervous and didn’t know why.
Violet had taken the clip out of her hair and let it fall in loose curls to her shoulders. She wasn’t “packing” and she’d taken off her tie and unbuttoned the collar of her uniform.
“Violet.” He almost skipped down the steps toward her. He rushed up to her and she ran to him. He scooped her up in his good arm. “You’re finally here!”
When he kissed her, he knew it had been worth the wait. She was warm and soft and clung to him, making him think she’d never let him go.
He couldn’t take his arm from her as they walked up to the gazebo. Even his sling didn’t seem in the way.
“Flowers? For me?”
“They’re for Mrs. Beabots—for allowing us to use her gazebo,” he joked, and started to correct himself when Violet interrupted him.
“So sweet, Josh. Thinking of her like that. She’ll love them. She has just about every flower but not sunflowers. She always buys them from Sophie’s mother.”
It was so like Violet to think of others and not herself. His heart swelled in his chest, soaking in more of Violet’s essence, yearning for more.
Josh kissed her again. “Be quiet.” Then he kissed her once more. “I love you, Violet. That’s what I came here to say.”
“I love you, too
,” she’d answered. The light in her eyes was soft. He was losing his mind all together. And he didn’t care. She closed her eyes, sank her fingers into his hair and kissed him with more love than he thought he deserved.
When she pulled away, she rested her head on his chest. “I’ve missed you,” she said.
“I missed you more.”
She yawned. Then she looked at the candles. “You went to all this trouble for me, and I’m dead on my feet.”
He chuckled and lifted her chin between his forefinger and thumb. “I’d love to sleep out here in the gazebo with you all night, but I have little faith in citronella. Next time I’ll bring mosquito netting. I’ll drape the whole gazebo.”
“You know, I believe you would.”
“Anything for you, Violet.”
“Really?” She looked at him with piercing eyes. “Anything?”
“To the moon and back. Always.”
She traced the side of his throat and held her fingers gingerly at the base where he knew she could feel his pulse. “Josh, promise me that you’ll always believe in my love for you.”
He’d paused. The back of his neck prickled. “I promise.”
“That’s all I wanted to hear.” She clutched his hand. “Because I have a confession. I haven’t been entirely honest with you these days and weeks.”
“You mean because you’ve been investigating me and thought I didn’t know.”
“Yeah.”
He dropped her hand. “So, this is truth time. Tell me, Vi. Was it me you really wanted or information about Miguel?”
“In the beginning, I wanted to nail a criminal. I was using you. I have to tell you that. We can’t go on with this thing between us. It’s killing me.”
He swiped his forehead. “I know.” Then he looked at her. “And now?”
“I do love you. More than anything. That includes my job. If I lose my position on the force over this, then so be it.” She swallowed hard. “Yesterday—hours ago, I wouldn’t have said that.”
“You wouldn’t?”
“I want Miguel behind bars.”
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