Line of Duty

by V. K. Powell

  “He’s making us look like the Keystone Cops, and it pisses me off,” Finley said. “His brother is still in the hospital. Maybe he’s waiting until Josh is released to try to spring him from custody. But don’t worry, Hank, we’ll get him. And when we do I’ll make him pay.”

  “Don’t say that shit, Fin. I taught you better. Just bring their asses to trial. I want to stare them both in the face when I testify.”

  “You got it. How are you feeling?”

  “I’m getting a little better with the crutches. I’ll catch you later. Becky is giving me a sponge bath. Fun times. Oh, why don’t you come by after lunch. Robin and the Carlyle kids are going to play ball.”

  “I’ll be there.” They hung up, and Finley chuckled at the image of her six-foot coach being manhandled by his five three wife. She flipped to Anita’s message next.

  What are you wearing 2nite? Need to coordinate.

  Tonight? She poured the strong coffee into her mug, settled at the kitchen counter, and checked the calendar on her phone. The Carlyle fundraiser. Damn it. She’d agreed to go with Anita months ago, probably at a weak point in the heat of passion. She’d promised and couldn’t back out now. She tapped. Tux. Pick you up at 7?

  Can’t wait. Let’s make a night of it. Anita’s code for sex later.

  Finley didn’t respond. The heat of Dylan’s body pressed against hers on the narrow sofa, and the way they’d shifted and remained together during the night made her want only one woman. It was a dance they’d never rehearsed but performed instinctively. She wanted Dylan, and more than sexually. That was the part that worried her. What could she offer in return?

  She started to dial the station to check on the manhunt, but this was her day off. Time to relax. Could she forget about work, even for a few hours? She’d done so nicely with Dylan here, but without her, the house again felt cold and hollow, and she grew restless.

  Finley finished her first cup of coffee, poured another, and carried it to her bedroom. She rummaged to the back of her walk-in closet where she’d stowed her tuxedo. The last time she’d worn anything vaguely formal was at her father’s funeral—a black suit and tie and white shirt that her father always said made her look like a waiter.

  She unzipped the clothes bag and slid the tux and two vests onto the bed. Her usual combo was black slacks, jacket, and tie with the gray vest and a white shirt. She glanced at the red vest. What would Dylan be wearing? What did it matter? She was going with Anita. Would Dylan have a date? Did Dylan date? All Finley knew was she didn’t date cops. Her stomach lurched, and she sat on the side of the bed. Oh fuck. She was in so much trouble.

  To stay busy and not think about this evening, Finley ran the dust mop over the floors, just in case Dylan came back or Sharon needed to show the place again. She focused on the afternoon at Hank’s, playing with children who still believed anything was possible. If Dylan was there maybe they’d have an opportunity to talk about last night. She’d asked to renegotiate their arrangement, but Dylan hadn’t heard her. Maybe she should leave well enough alone.

  She changed into a worn pair of sweats and her most comfortable tennis shoes and made the short drive to Hank’s, her heart rate rising with each block. One black SUV with the thin blue line decal in the back window was parked in front of the house. Before she made it up the steps, Robin crashed through the front door and headed toward her at full speed.

  “You’re here.”

  “Of course, I’m here, but don’t jump today.” She pointed at her still-tender shoulders. “Work injury.” She tickled him under the arms, which made him squirm and try to break free.

  “So, how many people are playing?”

  When Finley stopped tickling him, Robin counted on his fingers. “Ryan, Riley, and a new girl named Shea, who’s pretty cool too. And dad’s bosses, and the doctor lady from the hospital.”

  Finley swallowed hard. She wanted to put on her game face before seeing Dylan again, especially in front of her sisters. “Dylan?”

  “I guess. She’s too short for basketball, but we’ll be nice and let her play.”

  She rubbed his head as they entered the house. “Good man.”

  Finley kissed Becky on the cheek on their way through the kitchen toward the backyard. “How’s our guy today?”

  “In his element. He’s playing umpire.”

  Finley laughed. “I think it’s called a referee in basketball.”

  Becky waved her off. “Whatever. It’s a ball thing.”

  Robin ran to the backyard yelling, “Fin’s here. We can start now.”

  Finley honed in on Dylan the second she stepped outside. She wore a pair of bright pink tights and an equally snug top with a neckline that revealed just enough cleavage to be distracting. Finley licked her lips. How in the hell could she concentrate on basketball?

  “Hey, guys,” she said, shaking hands with Bennett and Jazz and nodding to the kids. She shuffled in front of Dylan like a new student on the playground, unable to meet her gaze. “Hi.”

  “Hi, yourself. Sure you’re up for this, after your fall?”

  “I’m nicely bruised, but exercise will help with the soreness. Just no body blocking,” Finley replied. “And no more of these, if you please.” She pointed to the scar on her chin.

  “I wondered how you got that sexy little addition. Very nice.” Dylan grinned and wiggled her eyebrows. “Prepare for a thumping, Masters.”

  “Says the five-foot-nothing woman,” Finley teased her.

  “Yeah, but I have a secret weapon.” Dylan waved at her outfit. “Just for you.” She winked and moved closer. “Try to keep your eye on the ball, Masters.”

  “If you two stop sparring, we’ll begin. We only have a two-hour window,” Hank said. “Becky and I divided everybody up into fairly equal teams. “Ryan, Shea, Bennett, and Finley are on one team, and Riley, Robin, Jazz, and Dylan on the other. Becks will do the ball toss, and I’ll referee from the sidelines on my magic sticks.” He tapped the crutches under his arms. “Any objections speak now.”

  When nobody responded, Becky stepped to the center of the court between equally matched Bennett and Jazz. “Try not to crush me.” She made the toss and ran for her life.

  Bennett tipped the ball toward Finley, and she passed it to Ryan who was already under their basket. He tossed it up, and Bennett assisted for the dunk and the first points of the game.

  “Great job, Ryan!” Finley high-fived him and handed the ball to Dylan.

  “Beginner’s luck,” Dylan said. She in-bounded the ball to Robin, and he dribbled down the court, passing back and forth with Riley who matched his stride step for step. Dylan stopped in front of Finley and wiggled her shoulders. When Finley glanced at her chest, Dylan reached out and tipped her chin up. “The ball’s not in there.” She swept past Finley, who was still stunned at the reprimand, and caught a pass from Jazz to execute a neat layup.

  “Hey,” Bennett said, “no fair distracting our players with your…assets.”

  “It’s not my fault she can’t multitask.”

  Finley wanted to dig a hole in the concrete pad and crawl in, but Bennett shrugged. “Valid point.”

  Shea took the ball out and threw it in to Bennett, who passed it back. Shea was quick and wove an intricate pattern around the adults, and then handed off to Finley for the basket.

  Jazz in-bounded to Riley, who dribbled down the court with Finley in pursuit. Dylan slipped into position and planted her feet. Riley grinned, recognizing the pick Dylan set, and altered her course slightly so that Finley, who was focused on pressuring Riley, slammed into Dylan. Time froze and heat pulsed between them as they lay in a tangle of arms and legs.

  Dylan’s grin was wide. “Couldn’t wait to get me prone again?”

  Finley jumped to her feet, hoping Dylan’s sisters hadn’t heard the whispered taunt. She looked over to Hank. “Foul, ref.”

  “Looked like her feet were planted in plenty of time, Fin,” Hank said. “The foul is on you.”


  Finley shook her head, but offered her hand to help Dylan up, wincing only slightly from the strain on her shoulder. Her body still burned from the contact with Dylan, and Finley could not tear her gaze from Dylan’s backside as she trotted away to rejoin her team.

  Hank ordered the ball in-bounded from the sideline to restart play. Riley passed the ball in to Jazz, and Finley, still dazed, was slow to react when Riley sprinted toward the basket. Jazz passed the ball to Robin, who passed it back to Riley, who scored a neat layup.

  “Great assist, Robin,” Bennett said as Robin and Riley shared a celebratory chest bump.

  “No fair.” But Finley was loving every minute of the game—being physically active, playing with Dylan, laughing, and watching her move. She hadn’t seen this lighthearted side before, but she liked how uninhibited and free Dylan seemed.

  All the adults played at a level that involved the kids and allowed them to score most of the baskets. Finley played basketball in high school and college, and it felt good to help kids learn and enjoy the game. They played hard and fast, stopping only briefly for water breaks, until Hank gave the three-minute warning.

  Ryan took the ball out for their team, passed in to Bennett, and she made a long pass down court to Finley for an easy two points.

  “And that’s how it’s done,” Finley said.

  “Well, watch this, sport.” Dylan dribbled down court with Finley keeping pace, reaching in and trying to dislodge the ball.

  Every time she touched Dylan, even inadvertently, she felt a spark and her body misfired. She stumbled over her own feet, couldn’t reach the ball, and finally just grabbed Dylan.

  Hank blew the whistle. “Holding.”

  “Yeah. My bad.” Finley clenched her fists at her sides. Kids were present, along with Dylan’s older sisters. This was neither the time nor the place to let her feelings show.

  Dylan threw the ball to Robin for the shot and stopped beside Finley. “Can’t keep your hands off me, can you?”

  “So it seems,” Finley admitted.

  Dylan grinned and walked off the court. “Time’s up. The Carlyles have to make a command appearance at the hospital for G-ma’s inspection before this evening’s event.”

  “That means we end with a tie,” Hank said. “Guess we’ll have a rematch.”

  The kids erupted in cheers and sprinted toward the house.

  Jazz hung back with Finley when she reached into the cooler for a bottle of water, and the rest of the group followed the children inside. “Be careful of your next move with my sister.” Her tone was soft, non-threatening, but very matter-of-fact. “I don’t want her hurt.”

  Finley stopped and met Jazz’s stare. She’d expected Bennett to warn her off because Jazz was so quiet and non-confrontational. But Jazz’s comments hit the target like an expert marksman and demanded honesty. “I feel like I’m the one in danger.”

  “Possibly. She’s never been interested in a cop, and I don’t know how she’ll handle it or if she’ll even let herself go there…for anything but fun.”

  Finley nodded, her heart feeling like someone held it in a vise. “Thanks for the warning.”

  Chapter Twenty

  When Finley picked Anita up that evening at seven, she was a total wreck. She faced armed suspects with more focus and courage. She’d enjoyed this afternoon with Dylan, but they hadn’t talked. Probably best, considering Jazz’s advice.

  “Hey, babe,” Anita said, climbing in the Jeep beside her. “I’ve missed you.” She leaned over the console and pulled Finley into a kiss. “Yum. Good as ever.”

  Anita’s proximity made her anxious, but she vowed to be courteous. Anita wasn’t to blame for Finley questioning her beliefs and acting totally out of character. “Nice. Green looks good on you. So, are we going to a dinner, dance, or what? It’s my first time.”

  “Mostly dancing and mingling. A three-month online auction led up to this event. The winners will be announced tonight. It’s a huge fundraiser, and the Blandwood Mansion Carriage House is the perfect venue for just about anything.”

  Finley seized the topic and ran with it. Conversation was not their forte. She was usually too busy helping Anita undress to actually talk. “Yeah, I toured the mansion in high school. I liked the Tuscan style, the central tower, stucco walls, and the symmetry of the two end pieces.”

  Anita laughed. “The end pieces? They’re called dependencies or wings, and they house the historic Governor John Motley Morehead law offices on one side and a kitchen on the other.”

  “But the carriage house is awesome too,” Finley said. “Octagonal shaped. Pretty progressive for the period.”

  She stroked Finley’s thigh. “Why are we talking about architecture? And when did I fall from hot to nice? What’s wrong?”

  “Maybe I’m a little nervous. This is a huge deal for my boss’s family. Guess I want to make a good impression. Plus, formal and crowds really aren’t my thing.”

  “Stick with me. I’m a frequent flyer.” Finley gave her a quizzical glance, and she added, “Always looking for Ms. Right who runs in the best social circles.”

  Another reason she and Anita could never be serious. “May be your lucky night, and don’t let me cramp your style.”

  Anita eyed her. “You said formal events aren’t really your thing, Finley. I won’t run off with someone else and leave you on your own.”

  “No, really. There will be plenty of people I know from work to hang out with. Don’t worry about me if you find somebody really interesting. I’m cool with it.”

  Finley parked on a side street and escorted Anita to the queue at the carriage house’s French door. As they stood in line, Finley glanced up at the cupola with its louvered openings and glazed windows that allowed both air flow and light and reminded her of a small lighthouse. The building’s buff-colored cladding topped by white lattice strips around the curves gave it a beachy feel. She’d pay to be at a beach right now or anywhere but here.

  “Earth to Finley.” Anita nodded in front of them. “Your boss, twelve o’clock.”

  Gayle and Bennett Carlyle stood on either side of the arched entry welcoming each guest, flanked by Jazz and Kerstin respectively. Finley craned her neck to look for Dylan but didn’t see her. Good, a few minutes to settle her nerves before going inside. She addressed Gayle first. “I hope G-ma is doing better today.”

  “Yes, we went by the hospital to get her approval on our outfits for the evening. It made her feel included. She’s progressing well, according to our resident physician. Thank you for asking, Finley, and thanks for coming.”

  She introduced Anita, and the Carlyles greeted them warmly, but Bennett glared at her before they walked away. Another warning from a protective sister? She wrote it off to paranoia and concentrated on her surroundings. The spacious room felt cramped with people standing shoulder-to-shoulder, and Finley moved to the outer perimeter so she could breathe. The tile floor combined light and darker inlaid pieces in the shape of an octagon to match the building, and Finley distracted herself by counting the darker squares over and over.

  “You okay?” Anita asked, and Finley nodded. “Why don’t I get us a drink. Beer?”

  She nodded again and watched Anita weave her way through the throngs of people like she belonged here. She really was a beautiful woman, so why wasn’t that enough anymore? Finley glanced up and the answer was staring back at her.

  “Finley. I didn’t know you’d be here,” Dylan said, slowly scanning Finley twice.

  “Yeah, first time. I…promised…months ago.” She sounded like an idiot and just stared at the red dress hugging Dylan’s body and the glimpses of skin it revealed at her thigh and down her back as she moved.

  “Well, thanks for your support. It takes a village.” She waved toward her blond companion. “This is Wendy Kramer. Wendy, Finley Masters, an officer at Bennett’s substation.”

  Finley offered her hand. “You a doctor too?”

  “Pediatric surgeon,” Wendy said smoothly, her
stare confident, smile genuine. Doctors were touchy about their specialties, like police officers were about rank and detective status, but Wendy made the distinction unemotionally without the air of supremacy some physicians had.

  “Right.” Finley liked Wendy until she took in her smoking hot figure sheathed in a black formal dress that was the perfect contrast to Dylan’s red one. Hank would’ve said these two were a straight man’s wet dream. The thought just made her queasy, a feeling that deepened when Wendy encircled Dylan’s waist and asked, “Vodka tonic or wine?” The question reeked of familiarity, and Finley had to get away.

  “Wendy?” Anita approached the group, pushed Finley’s beer at her, and grabbed Wendy’s hand. “I haven’t seen you in ages. You look…” Anita gave Wendy a visual that rivaled an X-ray checking for breaks, “…delicious.”

  Wendy blushed and nodded toward Dylan. “That’s what my date said too. Thanks.”

  “Oh, sorry, Dr. Carlyle, I was just appreciating your choice of partner.”

  Finley forced her arm around Anita’s waist. “I’m going to check out the displays. You can come or—”

  “Don’t mean to barge in, but maybe Anita could show me the way to the bar,” Wendy said, “while you look around.”

  Finley walked away without answering and headed to the table displaying the plaques honoring all the officers who’d died in the line of duty. Each showed a picture of the officer and the dates he began work and his end of watch. Finley gave every man a few seconds of silent respect. When she reached Garrett and Bryce Carlyle’s plaques, she stopped. She couldn’t imagine losing one relative to violence, much less two. What did Dylan feel when she looked at these or saw her siblings in uniform? No wonder she didn’t want to date cops. She felt a soft touch on her back, knew it was Dylan by the way her body warmed, but didn’t turn.

  “It’s a little overwhelming to see them all at once, isn’t it?” Dylan asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “I should probably know this, but where are these kept when they’re not here or on display for National Police Officers Week? G-Pa’s and Papa’s hang on the walls in the Fairview Station community room.”