by Ana Leigh
"Then who attacked Vic?" she asked.
"Obviously the perp. He probably hadn't intended to, but Vic must have gotten in the way. Vic said when he went back to the car he saw a gray or light blue Toyota parked a short distance away. A General Investigative Unit from that precinct checked it out and nobody on the block has one. The GIU team said that Tate drives a white SUV, and his wife drives a red Acura."
"Oh, Doug! What a disappointment."
"You've got that right."
"I'm so sorry. I've been so self-absorbed. So now you're back to where you started from."
"Except it's not my problem anymore. I'm off the case, and I've been suspended without pay for thirty days."
"Why?" she asked, aghast.
"Jess, don't you ever watch the news or read the paper?"
"I try not to, in order to keep an open mind in court."
"Well, every channel's carrying it as well as the front page. It seems one of the gawkers last night had a camera and the good citizen snapped a picture of me hitting Tate."
"Oh, Doug, you didn't." She sat down in despair.
"No lecture, please. I've already heard one from the chief. The paper's crying police brutality, and the mayor's calling for my badge permanently. He claims I'm an embarrassment to the city."
She looked up on the verge of tears. "You know it's all just posturing for the camera, Doug. It will all blow over. Darling, we've had our differences in court, but there's not a judge on the bench who doesn't agree that you're an outstanding homicide detective. Nobody's going to take away your badge."
"Frankly, Jess, I don't give a damn if they do. I'm sick of the whole thing. They can have the badge."
"You don't mean that."
"My best friend was almost murdered last night, and I have to take heat for taking a swing at the guy whom I thought did it. I'm telling you, Jess, any cop who walks into a dark alley and takes a bullet, any fireman who walks into a blazing house or any guy who puts on a uniform and goes into combat is a fool. There'll always be some big mouth out there pointing a camera or guilty finger to tell the poor sucker – who was willing to put his life on the line – just what he did wrong."
"Don't say that, Doug. I know you're bitter right now."
"Why shouldn't I be? The finest man I know almost was killed last night in the line of duty. It was worth one line in the newspaper and on television. But my throwing a punch at Tate got a full-size picture on the front page and the lead-in report on all the local news channels. The damn job sucks."
"Doug, you wouldn't be in law enforcement if you didn't believe in what you're doing."
"I'm in law enforcement because I like to solve puzzles," he lashed out. "The biggest puzzle though is why I was stupid enough to join the force in the first place."
She stood up and went over to him. "Why don't you take a shower and climb into my bed. You need a good night's sleep, Doug. I'll unplug the phone, smash that cell phone of yours into pieces and sleep in the other room. Tomorrow we'll talk about this. As long as you're on suspension, maybe we can think about going away for a couple of weeks. I'm sure I can shift my cases around. How about it, McGuire?"
"Sounds good, but not tonight. I've got some serious thinking to do, so I'll call—"
She put a finger over his lips. "Don't say it. Promise me you'll get some sleep."
He tried to grin. "Probably more than if I'd stay here and think about you lying in a bed in the next room."
She slipped her arms around his neck. "I love you, Doug."
His kiss was hard – almost desperate. Then he left without another word.
Her heart ached for him.
* * *
Despite all he had on his mind, Doug couldn't forget Jess's stricken look when he'd walked in tonight.
He's seen it on Bev's face during her vigil through the night at her husband's bedside. He'd seen it in the eyes of Vic's children.
And Lord knows, he'd seen it enough times on his mother's face through the years not to recognize its meaning. In these past couple weeks he had shoved that memory to the back of his mind. Being with Jess had made him forget the many nights he had watched his mother walking the floor, but keeping up a brave front for his sake. The funerals of the officers killed in the line of duty and the looks on the faces of the loved ones left to mourn them. He had vowed he'd never put a woman he loved through that agony.
And, yeah, he loved Jess. When or how – or what – it was it had happened to him. But when he walked into that waiting room this morning and saw her standing there, he realized just how much he loved her.
Why had he let it happen? His eyes had been wide open when he first got involved with Jess, but he was cocky enough to think he could walk away any time he was ready. He sure had to eat those words. But thank goodness today made him spew them back up. Tomorrow he'd make it clear to Jess he wasn't in for the long haul. Maybe love belonged in her world, but it was a luxury that had no place in his.
The answering machine was blinking away when he walked into his apartment. He figured it was Jess, punched the button and listened to the message.
His face was grim when he turned it off and reached for the telephone.
* * *
Chapter 17
«^»
Jess had spent a restless night fretting over Doug. He was so bitter and unhappy. It broke her heart to see him that way. At least it was Saturday and she didn't have to go to court. Maybe the two of them could get away for a couple of days. Some place peaceful and quiet. Leave the rest of the world – and his cell phone – behind. She would pamper him, make love to him, and try to convince him there was another world out there, a world in which courts and murderers did not exist. With buoyed spirits she took a shower, and when she came out there was a message on her answering machine.
"Jess." Her heart automatically skipped a beat when she heard Doug's voice. "I have to go out of town for a few days. I'll call you when I get back."
Stunned, she stared at the machine, waiting for the message to continue. That was it?
Figuring the tape was stuck, she rewound it and played the message again. That was it!
Nothing more than those few terse words. No why or where. Not even a goodbye. For all the intimacy in the message, he might just as well have been calling the corner laundry to check on his dry cleaning. She wanted to bawl, but knew that tears wouldn't be of any comfort.
As if in commiseration, the angels did it for her. The sky opened up in a downpour and rained steadily all day. She turned down Liz's suggestion to go to a movie in favor of cleaning out her closets.
By the next morning the rain had reduced to a nonstop drizzle. Surprisingly her father called her – which he never did on weekends. She declined his Sunday dinner invitation, opting instead to clean her oven, and then feast on a bowl of Campbell's tomato soup.
By evening she couldn't bear it any longer. Surely Vic would know where Doug had gone.
Bev's cheery greeting only added to Jess's depression. Bev went through the nitty-gritty of how Vic was feeling, and although Jess was sincerely glad to hear he was fine, she almost dropped the telephone when Bev said, "It certainly was a shock about Doug's father, wasn't it?"
Jess offered a mumbled reply, wanting, instead to cry out, What about his father?
"It's unusual for a police chief to put himself in the line of fire," Bev rambled on. "But Doug always said his father never gave up a connection with the cop on the beat. But shot down responding to a robbery – that's a real shocker."
"Yes, it certainly is," Jess replied, managing to find her voice.
"And coming on top of Doug's suspension… I feel for him, Jess. Vic's more worried about Doug than he is his own health. He said Doug's thinking about quitting the force."
"He's bitter right now, Bev. He just needed to vent. But I'm afraid after this latest tragedy he just might decide to do it."
"At least Chief McGuire died with his boots on, so to speak," Beverly said. "He wanted to go
out in the line of duty. Well, thank God that didn't happen in the Peterson house. I don't have to tell you, Jess, I'm going to be mighty relieved when Vic retires in six months."
Jess tried to swallow the lump that had formed in her throat. "I didn't realize Vic was that close to retirement."
"Yes, ma'am. Amen! We're thinking about selling the house and moving where there's no snow and ice in the winter."
"Yes, that sounds like a good idea, although I wouldn't mind some of that snow and ice right now. This heat and humidity is devastating."
"I'll remind you of that next winter. Besides, gal, you've got it good. It's always about ten degrees cooler near the lake."
A few minutes later Jess managed to end the conversation and hang up.
She was crushed to hear that Doug had left without even mentioning his father's death to her. She was so emotionally attached to him that she couldn't fathom how he could do that to her. Excluding her from such a tragedy in his life made her realize that his feelings for her certainly didn't run as deeply as her's for him. And as the evening wore on, she began to doubt that he had any deep feelings for her at all.
She shared Doug's grief over his loss – she knew how she'd feel if, God forbid, she lost her father – but when she cried herself to sleep that night, the real cause of her tears was a broken heart.
* * *
Doug entered his apartment and the hot air smacked him in the face like a blast from hell. He tossed his keys and mail on the table and turned on the air conditioner. Why had he turned it off before he left? Now after five days in this heat, it would take a whole day to cool the place down again.
He stripped down to his boxers, and then plopped down on the chair in front of the conditioner to let his pores suck in the cool air.
He had a lot of serious thinking to do. A lot of decisions to make – and they all centered around Jess and his job.
His answering machine was flashing like red lights at a three-alarm fire. He felt like pulling the damn thing out of the wall and smashing it on the floor. Instead he got up, went to the kitchen and popped a Miller, then he came back, sat down and pushed the message button.
The first message was from the precinct captain. "Doug. I'm sorry to hear about your father. I had the pleasure of meeting him once when I was a patrol officer. He was the guest speaker at a seminar I attended. Law enforcement has lost one of its most dedicated servants."
Doug raised his beer can in a toast. "Right, Captain Collins. Here's to those dedicated law enforcement servants. May they rest in peace." He polished off the beer.
"On a different note, Detective," Coffins voice droned on. "I would like you to report in when you return. You've been taken off suspension."
"Screw you, Collins. I'm taking the thirty days. Sorry, your two minutes are up." He cut off the message.
The next several messages were from wives of other detectives who called to express their sympathy over his father's death. He lifted his head when a new message clicked in.
"Detective McGuire, this is Sherilyn Matthews." Her voice sounded better on the telephone than it did in person. "Would you be interested in coming to the studio? I'd like to interview you for our Sunday night Best of Milwaukee show."
"Not interested, Ms. Matthews." He moved on to the next caller.
"Doug, call me when you get back."
He played it over and over, just to hear her voice. He finally shut it off and leaned back in the chair.
I need you, Jess. Lord, how I need you.
For the first time in his thirty-six years he was at a total loss what to do with his frigging life. He crushed the beer can in his clenched fist and let it drop to the floor. Then he buried his head in his hands.
Doug still hadn't budged when the telephone rang a short time later. The answering machine clicked on and Vic's voice shouted, "Pick up the damn phone, Doug. I just talked to your mother so I know you're home."
Doug sighed, and reached for the phone. "What?"
"Well, hello. How are you doing, partner?"
"Trying to get some sleep."
"Did you hear we're back on the case?" Vic asked.
"Screw the case."
"The chief took you off of suspension."
"Screw the chief. He can take my damn badge and shove it up his—"
"Hey, cool it, Doug. At least for six months. I don't have the patience to break in a new partner."
"So what brought about this change of heart?" Doug asked.
"The morning after you left, Ron Tate called an interview and said he's not filing any charges against you. He said you are an excellent detective and the city needs more like you. When you hit him, he had not been arrested. It was between you and him. And you were reacting as a private citizen who thought his best friend had just been killed. He said he would have done the same thing in your place." Vic started to chuckle.
"So is this a joke?" Doug asked.
"No. You should have seen the chief and the mayor scrambling around trying to save their butts. The editorials are running ten to one in your favor. Most of them calling for the mayor's resignation for that crack he made about you being an embarrassment to the city."
"What?" Doug asked when Vic started chuckling again.
"I can't figure it out, Wolfman, but that 'go to hell' image of yours has grabbed the public. They've even formed a fan club for you. And this will crack you up, McGuire. Guess who's the organizer?"
"Britney Spears," Doug said sarcastically.
"Close. The chief's sixteen-year-old daughter. She and Justin are schoolmates, and they have set up a fan club on the Internet. Glamour shot and all. They've had hundreds of members."
"Thank God I don't have a computer."
"Bev thinks what's really helped is that Romeo and Juliet romance you've got going with Jess. The women are really into it."
"Yeah, well that story ended in a tragedy, too."
The remark changed Vic's tone. He came back subdued. "The two of you bust up?"
"I'm no good for her, Vic."
"Why don't you let her be the judge of that. Have you called her since you've been back?"
"Not yet."
"Doug, I was out of line about Jess. I should have trusted your instincts. For the record, there were no large withdrawals from her bank account."
"I didn't believe there would be. But that has nothing to do with it."
"Why don't you call her, Doug? She's been worried sick about you."
"It's not your problem, Pappy."
"Is it ever going to sink into that thick skull of yours that it's not you against the world? There are a lot of us who love you. I'll see you at the precinct tomorrow morning. We've got a murder case to solve, partner. In the meantime, call her."
As much as he would have liked to talk to Jess, he wasn't ready yet. It seemed that every time he was consumed with guilt, he took it out on her. So this time would be the last time.
He'd figured that out these past few days. That was how he punished himself. Jess was the only person he could draw comfort from by just being with her. And he didn't deserve to be comforted. He ought to even turn off the damn air conditioner just so he could punish himself more.
Lord, he hated self-pitying whiners. That's what he'd become. Everyone had to pay the piper eventually. His mother called it the Lord's retribution. To him it was just plain what goes around comes around; but okay maybe giving up Jess was his retribution for a damn lot of guilt.
He jumped to his feet. He had to get out of there or he'd end up calling her for sure. He'd do it tomorrow and try to make her understand. He pulled on jeans and a shirt, and headed for The Precinct.
The usual group of guys were there, and the usual card game in progress. His rotten life was being turned upside down and … life went on.
After a perfunctory greeting to Ski and the other guys, Doug went over and sat down at the corner table. His and Jess's table. There he went again! What in hell was he thinking? He'd been in and out of the join
t more times than he could remember. Sat at the same table. He'd only been there a couple of times with Jess, but thought of it now as their table.
Kate came over and put a hand on his shoulder. "I was sorry to hear about your father, Doug."
"Thanks, Kate."
"So what's it going to be? Suds or sandwich?" she asked.
"Suds."
"You've got it, honey." She came back with a pitcher of beer. "You've become our local hero, Doug."
"Yeah, Vic clued me in earlier."
"You've always been a hero to me."
"I'm not a hero, Kate. You of all people know better than that. You've lived with heroes."
He killed half the pitcher of beer and it wasn't helping. He went over and punched in "Crazy." And thought of Jess. He leaned his head against the jukebox in frustration.
"I believe this is our dance."
Doug spun around and there she was.
He stood there and just looked at her. She was manna to his senses. His eyes breathed in the sight of her, his nose the fragrance of her.
Jess clasped his hand and led him to the small dance floor at the rear. And then she was in his arms. That indescribable feeling of being alive when she was in his arms.
Dear God, he couldn't let her go. No matter what he'd resolved. He literally clung to her as they moved to the music and let Patsy Cline tell it as it was.
As soon as the song ended, he said, "I've got to get out of here." Like the cowardly bastard that he was, he left her standing in the middle of that dance floor and went back to his apartment to sulk in the dark. He might have known she'd follow – or maybe that's what he hoped for.
He opened the door in response to her knock, and walked back and sat down. Jess came in and closed the door quietly.
"Don't you think we need to talk, Doug?"
"Yes we do, but I'm not in the mood right now. It would be better if I call you tomorrow."
"Tomorrow? Why put off until tomorrow what you can do right now. Can't you face me and say what you have to say?"
"I thought it would be easier on both of us if I called."