Abducted

by Janice Cantore

  “Carly!” Gary, the security officer working the lobby desk, waved a hand to catch her attention as soon as she stepped out of the elevator.

  “What’s up?” she asked from the hallway, slowing but not stopping on her way to the back door.

  “Can you help me with this lawyer? His client is that burglar you just arrested.”

  “What? Harper’s lawyer is already here?” This news hit with a jolt and brought Carly to a halt. She’d thought Harper’s comment was strictly bad-guy bravado.

  “Yeah. Can you please talk to him?” Gary pleaded. “He’s really being a jerk, and he won’t listen to me because I’m not a police officer.”

  Carly checked her watch. “I’m late for an appointment.”

  The expression on Gary’s face changed her mind. She rolled her eyes. “Okay, okay, I’ll give it a few minutes.”

  He held his hands together as if praying and mouthed the words thank you. She followed him to the front counter and was immediately sorry. The lawyer was Thomas Caswell, a nasty private defense attorney who was famous for getting obviously guilty clients off on technicalities. Though she’d never faced him in court, Carly knew his tactics in trial: attack the officer instead of the evidence in order to plant doubt in the minds of jurors. The slimiest and wealthiest of crooks hired Caswell.

  “And who are you?” the attorney snapped when Carly appeared at the counter. She faced him in a T-shirt, shorts, and flip-flops.

  “I’m one of the arresting officers. Is there something I can help you with?”

  “I want your name and badge number.” He pulled out a pad and pen. Carly resisted the urge to tell him it was on the arrest report and gave him the information. He asked her to spell her last name twice. “Now—” when he finished writing, he looked down his nose at her, a tone of superiority lacing his voice—“I want to bail my client, Stanley Harper, out. This young man was giving me a lot of nonsense about a records clearance.”

  “It’s not nonsense. Your client has to clear records before he can be bailed out. I’m sure you know what we’re talking about because it’s routine for all arrestees. It means Cal-ID has to assure us he doesn’t have any more warrants other than the ones we’ve already found.” Carly looked at Gary, who raised four fingers. “That should be in about four hours.”

  “This is outrageous! I want the watch commander. My client is being unfairly persecuted.” Caswell was average height and bony thin, but his facial features were soft. His jowls shook when he spoke.

  “Mr. Caswell, it’s no use bullying. You’ve been around long enough to know we have no control over how long Cal-ID takes. Why don’t you save everyone a lot of grief, go have some breakfast, and come back in a few hours. Then you can bail your client out.” She hoped she had succeeded in keeping the antagonism out of her voice and crossed her arms to regard the lawyer.

  “Officer Edwards, I—” He stopped, looked her up and down as if measuring her resolve, then checked his watch. “I do have an engagement to attend to. But this isn’t over, not by a long shot. I intend to make this treatment known to your internal affairs department.” He bent to pick up his briefcase and then marched out of the building. If the front doors weren’t automatic, Carly was sure he would have slammed them.

  “Thank you, Carly. I owe you big-time.” Gary ran a hand across his brow and blew out a breath of relief. “Do you think he’s serious about making a complaint?”

  Carly shrugged. “Let him—we’re right.” The clock at the other end of the lobby caught her eye. “Oh no! I’ve got to go!” She sprinted out the back door of the station, across the hot parking lot awash in early-morning sun, and leaped into her car.

  How will he be today? The question blared in Carly’s thoughts as she rushed to her ex-husband’s physical therapy session. She tapped the steering wheel and groaned when traffic slowed. The heat of the day added fuel to her anxiety, bringing it to full boil. Joe and Andrea think I’m crazy for caring; for that matter, a lot of people think I’m crazy. But Nick matters to me, and I want to see him back on his feet.

  Four months ago, a .45-caliber slug had broken his femur, and the injury—although never life threatening—was quickly becoming lifestyle threatening. One setback after another dogged his recovery, from infections to reinjuries to mistakes in therapy. Now he faced the serious threat of not being able to be a police officer again. Carly’s mind screamed unvoiced questions. What will that do to him? What will that do to us?

  “Hey, Carly, how you doing?” Keith, the head therapist, greeted her as she ran into the office.

  “Late! Is Nick already in the pool?”

  “Relax; we got delayed too.” He held his hands up to slow her down. “He just finished up with his stretching and weight exercises.”

  She let out her breath in a whoosh and wiped sweat from her forehead. “Great! I was really afraid he’d start without me. I’ll go change; tell him I’ll see him in the water.”

  Carly relaxed and pushed open the locker room door, thankful for the blast of air-conditioning. As she changed into her swimsuit, she prayed for wisdom and patience. Her natural inclination when Nick tried to push her away was to push back, to get in his face and find out what the problem was. Carly hated beating around the bush and tiptoeing around her ex. But something told her trying to shake him out of the funk he was in wouldn’t help; it would only make things worse. Being patient went against the grain, but instinctively Carly guessed that was the best way to handle Nick at the moment.

  He always spent five minutes in the warm whirlpool before climbing into the big pool to swim. He was just getting out of the warm water when Carly stepped out of the locker room. Inwardly she flinched when she saw his painful struggle to move. The hip didn’t want to flex, which resulted in a stiff, awkward gait. Nick was an athlete, and until the injury, Carly had only known him to move with a fluid, natural grace. And she’d never known him to be without a cheerful optimism that she loved. He smiled and laughed easily, as easily as he’d catch a fly ball in a softball game or deliver a spike in a game of volleyball. Until now.

  Watching his stilted gait broke her heart, and it was a struggle to stay positive when the cheerful vibrancy she was used to seeing in the man was missing. His hip injury had turned him from an optimist to a pessimist overnight. She concentrated on the face: the blue eyes, strong jaw, and classically handsome features that always made her heart flutter. He’d once posed for a recruiting poster, and the guys teasingly called him Officer GQ. Carly, in happier times, called him her GQ hubby.

  “Hey, are you ready for a tough five thousand meters today?” Carly inhaled the familiar and welcome scent of pool chlorine and smiled her best smile—an honest one because it was good to see Nick, even under the circumstances.

  “Hi!” Nick smiled in return, pausing his walk to the pool. Carly liked to think his face lit up, but she could tell he was hurting. It was probably pain she saw in his eyes. “I thought maybe you wouldn’t make it today.”

  “I wouldn’t miss this for the world. We gotta get you back in shape!” She clapped like a cheerleader, then told him about her night, the arrest of Stanley Harper, and the encounter with Caswell, imitating the attorney’s highbrow tone.

  Nick actually laughed. “You do that pretty good. I’ve dealt with that guy before. He’s a bully. He likes to make noise and scare people, especially when he’s standing on shaky ground.” His face brightened for a moment as he warmed up into cop mode. “Maybe his client was planning on burgling the hospital, probably to steal drugs. I’ve heard a lot of rumors that Caswell is as shady as his clients are. But nothing sticks to him; it’s like he’s Teflon. Did they catch the guy who took off in the car?”

  “No, that was the only bummer. We didn’t have a helicopter up, and the sheriff couldn’t send one to assist. The driver was smart—headed north on the freeway, then got off and doubled back on streets. Our units lost him somewhere near the city limits. The car is registered to Harper, an old address, so that did
n’t really help us. You think the attorney is in on something shady with Harper?”

  “I wouldn’t put anything past that guy. It will be interesting to see how he tries to plead the case, what technicality he uses to get his client off.” He fell silent as he stepped into the pool.

  Carly knew how much Nick missed being out in the field as a working cop. As it was, he was working half days reviewing reports, and while he didn’t complain, she knew it was probably tedious for him. Few cops liked being shut up inside with paperwork. She followed him into the pool, and together they stretched their shoulders out before starting laps. Carly prayed while they stretched, thanking God that a little of the old Nick seemed to be with her in the pool today. She finished her prayer for his physical healing and asked God to strengthen their relationship.

  As usual, Nick pounded the water. It seemed as though he tried to pound out the stiffness by punishing himself. He normally worked to finish a swim maxed and exhausted. She followed his lead, content to stay within a body length of the possessed man. Though Nick kicked at only half his normal ability, Carly still worked hard keeping up with him. And she was no slouch in the water. Several of her junior college swimming records still stood, seemingly unbreakable. The five thousand meters went quickly.

  “Hey, you want to go get some lunch?” Carly asked after they had finished and cooled down. Nick was paddling lazy circles on his back. She bet he was delaying his exit from the pool. In the water he wasn’t as affected by the hip.

  “Aren’t you tired?”

  “Well, yeah. But I have to eat, too. Joe and I missed breakfast because we were booking the burglar.”

  He was silent for a minute, and Carly knew he was going to say no. She bit her lip in frustration and swallowed the whine that nearly escaped. He fell back into the silent and depressed man too quickly for her to adjust. It was so out of character for him, she wasn’t certain how to approach it. Do I insist, push him, point out how difficult he’s being, or do I just give him time? He’s hurting; I can see that. Would I be cheerful and upbeat if I couldn’t walk without the assistance of a cane?

  Carly ducked underwater to smooth her hair back out of her face. When she came up, she admitted to herself that if she were in Nick’s place, she’d be a pain and a half. Maybe I don’t know how to deal with him now, but I’ll learn. He’s worth it.

  “Thanks, but I think I’m going to hang out for a rubdown. You should probably go home and get to bed. You have to work tonight.” He gave her a half smile.

  “Okay, I guess. How about a rain check?”

  “Sure. Maybe we’ll do something when you’re off.” When he swam toward the other end of the pool, she followed, heartened by the suggestion.

  Keith was waiting at that end of the pool. He always stretched Nick out after the swim and, if Nick was particularly sore, set him up with ice packs.

  Carly followed Nick out of the pool and grabbed her towel as Keith and Nick talked. The last thing she heard Nick say as she entered the locker room was that he felt a little better. The words cheered her up, but the tone of his voice nagged. He was frustrated, and she could only wonder why the man who’d told her that faith in God and patience could overcome any obstacle seemed to have forgotten what he wanted her to learn.

  3

  BY THE TIME Carly pulled into her parking space, fatigue had settled like a heavy weight on her shoulders. She figured it probably hit so hard all at once because she was hungry as well as tired, but she didn’t know what she felt like eating. Yawning, she climbed out of her car and headed for her apartment.

  Andrea was just coming back with the dog. They had an agreement: if Carly wasn’t home before Andrea went to work, Andi would give Maddie a quick stretch of the legs. As usual, her roommate looked like she’d stepped out of a fashion magazine for nurses. The colorful scrubs she wore were pressed and wrinkle-free, and Andi’s hair and makeup were perfect, unaffected by the heat.

  “Thanks, Andi,” Carly said as she took the leash. “Appreciate it. I’m beat.”

  Andrea shrugged but said nothing.

  They walked into the apartment, and Carly heard the shower running.

  “You leave the water on?” she asked as she bent down to unhook the leash.

  “Nope,” Andi said with a wave of her hand. “That’s my friend. We slept in, so he’s showering now and then he’ll leave. I have to go. I’m late.” She slung her purse over her shoulder and headed toward the door.

  Carly frowned as fatigue gave way to crankiness. They’d had a discussion the other day about Andi bringing men home. She’d promised to make it a rare occurrence and to be discreet. “Andi, you know I hate it when you bring these guys home. Come on, it’s creepy.”

  Andrea’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t start with me, Miss Goody Two-shoes. We just got up late. He’ll be gone as soon as he showers. And it’s my apartment too!” With that, she slammed the door and was gone.

  Carly sighed and brought a hand to her forehead. “That went well, didn’t it?” she said to Maddie. Then she heard the shower stop. Shaking her head, she hurried into her room, not wanting to face the “guest” when he left. This was between her and Andrea, no one else. And Andrea’s attitude lately puzzled her almost as much as Nick’s did. She and Andrea had been roommates in college, more than ten years ago now, before Carly was accepted to the academy.

  I don’t remember friction like this back then, she thought. But then Andrea was not as wild where men were concerned; she was committed to doing well in school. She’d had to move back in with her mother, who’d been in a horrific car accident, about the same time Carly started the academy. They’d planned to become roommates again sometime, but Carly met and married Nick before Andi could leave her mother.

  An arrow-sharp shot pierced her thoughts; maybe Andrea was jealous of Nick. She dismissed the thought with a shudder. True friends weren’t jealous like that, and Carly considered Andi a true friend.

  She took a shower to cool off in more ways than one and got into bed. She switched from pondering Andi to worrying about Nick and their relationship, and that kept her awake for a bit. But fatigue eventually won, and she slept through the hot day, waking up with just enough time to eat and get to work.

  • • •

  That night, still tired and stressed about Nick, and a little annoyed at Andrea, Carly perked up at the sight of a bedraggled burglary detective standing in front of the locker room door. She knew he should be home in bed—his end of watch would have been six in the afternoon—so he was waiting to talk to her. Something was up with the Harper case.

  “Hey, Weaver, past your bedtime, isn’t it? Or do you always loiter outside women’s locker rooms at 9:30 p.m.?”

  “You people who work this shift are sick. I mean it, certifiably 5150.” He lurched forward and put a hand in the elevator to hold the door open. She bet the lump in his lower lip concealed a wad of chewing tobacco.

  Carly grinned and set her bag down. “Someone’s got to do it. I assume you wanted to talk to me about Harper.”

  “10-4. I heard you got into it with his slime bag attorney.”

  She raised her eyebrows and nodded. It never ceased to amaze her how fast information sped around the station. “It was no big deal. Has Harper already been bailed?”

  “Nope.” It was Weaver’s turn to grin. “We called bail deviation and got a bail enhancement because of the puke’s priors and because it was a hospital. Deviation upped it to one million pending his arraignment.” He paused to spit into a paper cup. “Caswell went ballistic. Anyway, I was wondering if you could tell me anything about the one that got away. Did you get a good enough look at him to pick his picture out?”

  “No, sorry. I only saw the back of his head.”

  “Could you tell if he was black or white?” The elevator tried to close, and he shoved the door back.

  She thought for a minute, trying to picture the guy in her mind. “If I had to guess, I’d say white and short. I thought maybe it might have
been a kid, but I really didn’t get much of a look. He almost ran me over. Why is this a big deal? All Harper took was paperwork.”

  “Yeah, but it was security paperwork. My sarge is convinced the guy had a bigger job planned. Harper is not the brightest bulb on the tree, but his sheet tells me he’s a proficient thief. We think we may be able to clear several other burglaries with him and his partner. That’s why I’m here so late and why I’m getting overtime this weekend; I’ve been reviewing a boatload of open burglaries. Why else would Caswell turn purple over a two-bit hype loser like Harper?”

  Nick’s comments ran through her mind. “You’re the second person I’ve talked to today who seems to think Caswell is less than on the level.”

  “He’s scum. And in case you didn’t notice, he dresses real sharp, meaning he charges big fees. Where would Harper get the bucks to hire him, much less the moxie to get him out of bed so early in the morning?” Weaver moved the lump in his lower lip to his left cheek. “Lieutenant Jacobs talked to my sergeant; he wants us to look at this real careful. He wants to go higher than detective lieutenant and is really on top of things.” He stepped into the elevator and released the door. “If you remember anything, call me,” he said, tossing Carly a two-fingered salute as the door closed.

  Carly dressed quickly and considered Weaver’s information. It wouldn’t surprise her if Caswell was crooked, but it would seem that with Harper in jail, whatever plan he’d had was ruined. The security paperwork was safely stowed in evidence. So what if the other guy got away? But then she knew Jacobs, or Jake as he was called, from her academy class. He had great instincts. Even ten years ago her classmates recognized something in him, and everyone bet he’d be chief one day. If he thought there was something more to this, he was probably right.