The Negotiator

by Dee Henderson

  Stephen got to his feet. “Want me to go get you a cheeseburger?”

  “Make it two and a vanilla shake.”

  “Eat your salad.”

  She poked at the limp lettuce. “It’s dead.” She reached for the sealed pudding cup. “At least they can’t ruin dessert.”

  Stephen tweaked her foot. “I’ll be back shortly. Behave yourself while I’m gone.”

  “You want good behavior, too?” She grinned. “You’re pushing it, Stephen. You already overruled me on staying here for the night.”

  “I managed to stop the family from descending on you, so we’re even.”

  She opened the pudding cup. “It’s a brief reprieve and you know it,” she countered. “Sunday’s dinner is going to be interesting. I sure hope Jennifer has earth-shaking news to share or I’m going to be toast.”

  Stephen laughed. “You walked into it. I’ll head the family off for a few days, but after that you’re on your own.” They had been calling from the moment she reached the hospital.

  “I hate being the center of attention.”

  “Next time don’t get hurt.”

  She couldn’t exactly argue that point.

  There was a tap on the door. “May I come in?”

  “Hi, Dave. Sure.” Kate pushed away the tray. “Stephen’s smuggling in real food. You want something?”

  Stephen paused by the door as he reached Dave. “Cheeseburger, Polish, chili? I’m heading across the street.”

  “A Polish with the works would be great.”

  Stephen nodded. “I’ll be back in a few minutes. She’s getting feisty, so watch yourself.”

  “Thanks a lot, Stephen.” Kate settled back on the pillows and watched Dave take a seat. He looked tired. She wasn’t surprised. It was after 7 P.M., and his afternoon must have been much like hers, full of doctors and official statements. She hadn’t seen him since she had entered the ER and the medical community had surrounded her.

  He stretched his legs out. “You look better than I expected.”

  “Feisty.” She shook her head. “Stephen needs to work on his adjectives.”

  “I don’t know. It fits,” he replied easily, taking Stephen’s side, probably just because he could. He glanced around at all the flowers. “It looks like you have had some company.”

  Kate looked at the bouquets, embarrassed at all the attention they represented. “I was just doing my job. You would think I got shot or something.”

  “The cops like you. It’s not like they can bring flowers when one of the guys gets hurt.”

  “Your sister sent me a bouquet—the orchids.”

  “Did she?” Dave grinned. “You mean she limited it just to flowers? I was afraid she was going to drown you in gifts, she was so relieved to get my phone call.”

  “This is so embarrassing. I even got flowers from the owner of the bank.”

  Dave looked over the arrangements. “Which one?”

  “Care to guess?”

  He thought about it. “Zealous mortgage management. Rather stale donuts for 9 A.M. We have an owner who doesn’t like to spend his money on others. The wildflower bouquet.”

  “You’re good.”

  “I’m right?” He got up to retrieve the card and grinned as he read it. “Nathan Young. Owner, First Union Bank.”

  He put down the card, gestured to the two dozen red roses. “Who’s your beau?”

  She wondered if it was his British side that made the abrupt question come out sounding so stiff. Or was he just irked? She buried the smile fighting to be released. “Marcus. Check out the card.”

  He hesitated.

  “Go ahead. You’ll appreciate it.”

  “‘Lecture to come, Ladybug’.” He tapped the card. “Sounds like family.”

  He did sound relieved. Kate stored that pleasure away to enjoy later. She didn’t want him to be interested in her, but she had to admit it felt good to know he was. “Oldest brother. And no, I don’t want to explain the nickname.” The roses were just like Marcus. Extravagant. Unnecessary. Wonderfully sweet. He knew her too well. She would look at them all night and know if he was not a thousand miles away, he would be sprawled in that chair for the night. The friendship went so deep she wondered at times if Marcus could read her mind. Today had shaken her up more than she cared to admit.

  Dave settled back in the chair and stretched his legs out. “You’ve got a great family.”

  “Yes, I do.” It was a subject that could make her sappy when she was tired. “I heard a rumor it’s your birthday today.”

  “I couldn’t think of a nicer person to spend it with.”

  She couldn’t prevent the smile. He was smooth. “Seriously, I’m sorry your plans for the day got so messed up.”

  He shrugged. “I’m alive to enjoy it, mainly thanks to you. Have they told you how long you will be here?”

  “I’ve been promised I can leave tomorrow morning.” She held up the hand with the I V. “The antibiotics will be done in another hour; the doctors are just being cautious. All that glass was covered with flash grenade residue.”

  “How often do days like this happen?”

  Why did he want to know? Concern was nice; worry was another way of smothering. She gave him the benefit of the doubt for now. “Days when you wonder if you will walk away in one piece?”

  “Something like that.”

  “Nothing is routine, but every couple months there’s a case like this one that tests the edge.”

  “That often?”

  Definitely a frown. She sighed. Next he was going to be critiquing how she did her job. She couldn’t prevent it from being dangerous, but someone had to do it. “In the decade I’ve been doing this, I’ve seen it change for the worse. People choose violence as their first course of action these days.”

  The door pushed open as Stephen backed in, carrying a sack and a cardboard container holding three drinks, rescuing her from telling Dave, Thank you, but I know how to do my job. Stephen sat on the edge of the bed and distributed the food. “Two cheeseburgers, Kate. I loaded them with hot stuff for you.”

  “This is great. Thanks.” Her interrupted breakfast had been a long time ago. She listened to the guys talk while she focused on her dinner.

  Stephen caught her in a yawn as she finished the second sandwich. “Ready to call it a day?”

  Stiff, sore, and feeling every minute of the very long day, she reluctantly admitted the obvious. “Getting there. Are you picking me up tomorrow morning?”

  “Ten o’clock, unless you page me earlier,” he confirmed.

  “Make it nine.”

  “Okay, nine.”

  She wasn’t sure what to say to Dave. She wasn’t interested in saying good-bye and yet to suggest something else…this was awkward. “Thanks for your help today.”

  She held still as his hand brushed down her cheek, and she saw her surprise briefly reflected on his own face. Clearly he hadn’t thought before he made the gesture, had startled himself as much as her. It was nice to know she wasn’t the only one feeling off balance at the moment. They were work acquaintances, and yet it kept jumping across to something more personal.

  She had little experience deciphering the emotions reflected in his blue eyes; gentleness wasn’t common in her world.

  “It was my pleasure. Maybe next time we can meet by simply saying hello?” Dave said softly.

  “I would like that.”

  His eyes held hers, searching for something. When he moved his hand to his back pocket and broke eye contact to look at his wallet, she blinked at the abrupt loss she felt. “Good. Give me a call, let me know how you’re doing.” He put a business card by the phone. “My cellular phone number is on the back.”

  Kate nodded, well aware of Stephen’s speculation. “Good night, guys.”

  The FBI regional offices were on the eighteenth floor of the east tower in the business complex. Dave tossed his keys on his desk and went to brew a pot of coffee. It was 8:45 P.M. He had some ques
tions regarding Henry Lott that needed answers. He was too on edge to consider going home.

  There was such a contradiction in Kate. Who was the real Kate—the cop who had been coolly assessing the situation, prepared if necessary to call for a sniper shot? Or the woman who had been defusing the situation with her chatter—who liked pepperoni pizza, her steak cooked to just a hint of pink, mystery novels, basketball, marathon races, and chocolate chip ice cream?

  The two images didn’t mix.

  He stirred sugar into his coffee and half smiled. He liked her. Despite the contradiction, he really liked her. She could keep her sense of humor in a crisis.

  She was going to be hard to get to really know. One moment she was open and easy to read, the next impossible to fathom. Given the nature of her job, he should have expected that. He had crossed a line in those last few moments at the hospital, sensing an unexpected loneliness in her, wanting to comfort and not knowing how to reach her with words. He owed her. He couldn’t dismiss that fact even if it did annoy her when he expressed it.

  At least they had both come out of the day relatively unhurt. He touched his split lip and grimaced. It stung—he could only imagine what she must be feeling about now. He walked back to his office, set down his coffee cup, and turned on his desk lamp.

  It didn’t take a name on the door for the office to be recognizable as his. He liked a clear desk, organized files, large white boards, and space to pace and think. The whimsical sketches on the wall, done by his sister, were worth a minor fortune. A signed football from his brother-in-law was under glass on the credenza.

  He did not appreciate almost getting killed on his thirty-seventh birthday. The situation had scared his sister. Sara, having been stalked for years by a man trying to kill her, had already taken enough scares in her lifetime. He wanted a few questions answered. He would start with Henry Lott’s former employer, Wilshire Construction, then take a look at First Union Bank.

  Night had descended. The shadows around the hospital room had finally disappeared into true darkness. Kate preferred the night over dusk. There was a little more truth in the darkness; it at least didn’t pretend to hide danger. She reached over and turned on the bedside light.

  It was after ten. Her shoulder ached. She was tired of staring at the ceiling. Fatigue had crossed into the zone where it now denied sleep. Normally after a crisis, she would go shoot baskets for a while, bleed off the stress. Denied the release, it was hard to settle for the night.

  Accustomed to thinking in the quiet of the night, she reached for the pad of paper Stephen had brought her.

  Why was Jennifer coming to town?

  Kate wrote the question on the pad of paper and flared several lines out. Work opportunity? Boyfriend? Problem in the practice? Someone giving her trouble? Someone she wants us to help?

  It could be practically anything. Kate didn’t like not knowing. She couldn’t fix it until she knew the problem. Family mattered. Intensely. She looked across the room at the roses. She was glad Marcus was coming.

  Staring at the phone, she considered calling him. It was late on the East Coast, but Marcus never cared what time she called. If she woke him up, she’d hear the amused, warm sleepy tone in his voice that someday would delight a wife. He would talk for as long as she liked. She let down her guard with him. He knew it. They were the oldest two of the O’Malley clan and had been friends a very long time. In the quiet of the night they had talked about many things. He worried about her just like she worried about him. It went with the jobs they had.

  If she called tonight, he would know she couldn’t unwind. It would be better to call tomorrow.

  She wished she knew how the case investigation was going. Her teammates were busy while she sat in a hospital. She had never been one to enjoy sitting on the sidelines of an investigation. They had to find the source of the dynamite, how Henry had procured it, where he had built the device. There was a good chance there were more explosives than the amount he had used. If she called the office at this time of night, from the hospital, she would never hear the end of it.

  Kate dropped the pad of paper back on the table, causing Dave’s business card to flutter to the floor. It took some careful maneuvering to pick it up. She didn’t want to lose it.

  She turned the business card over in her hand. Bothering him at home was not an option, but the card gave his direct number at work. What were the odds she was not the only one with questions?

  The phone call surprised him. Dave glanced up from the printout he held and considered letting his voice mail answer it. His sister Sara would have called his cellular number.

  It was his private line. He reached over and took the call. “Dave Richman.”

  “I hoped you would be at the office.”

  The sound of her voice was unexpected. “Kate. What’s wrong?”

  “Relax. I just can’t sleep.”

  Some of his tension faded but not the concern. “The cuts bothering you?”

  “They are itching like mad. Listen, can you pull the EOC records for Wilshire Construction?”

  “Kate, come on. You’re in the hospital. What are you doing working?”

  “I need the overtime,” she replied dryly. “I bet the data is somewhere on your desk.”

  Dave shifted printouts even as he smiled. “What are you looking for?”

  “Was his termination from Wilshire Construction with cause, or was it age discrimination?”

  He flipped through the Equal Opportunity Commission records. “Henry didn’t file a formal complaint, but several others from the company have in the last six months. It’s possible.”

  “I thought so. Have you looked at the mortgage?”

  She was asking the same questions he was. It was nice to know they worked a case the same way. “Not yet. I’m still checking out the bank.”

  “Anything interesting?”

  “Possibly. First Union’s foreclosure rate is about triple that of last year. The bank is one of several owned by Nathan Young. He has a group here in Chicago, another group in New York, and recently bought his first one in Denver. It looks like the same trend is in place at all the banks.”

  “He’s building up cash,” Kate concluded.

  “It looks that way.”

  “So Henry’s complaint might have some basis in fact.”

  “We’ll keep digging,” Dave agreed. “His financial records should be available tomorrow. If there was something irregular in his foreclosure, we’ll find it.”

  “Thanks for starting the search.”

  “We both want the answers. ATF is working on tracing the explosives. An initial search of his home did not reveal where the device had been built. They sealed the place to do a more thorough search tomorrow.”

  “Good. I’ll touch base with Manning.”

  She was decompressing. He should have realized it earlier. “I wish I had more to offer.”

  “This helps.”

  The silence on the phone crossed the subtle line from a pause to being too long. “Kate, you did a good job today.”

  “Maybe. At least everyone walked away alive.”

  “Ease up on yourself. Some situations don’t lend themselves to peaceful endings.”

  “I know. Ignore the whining. I don’t normally second-guess myself.” He heard her muffle the phone and speak to someone. “The nurse is here.”

  “I’ll hold on.”

  “Oh. Okay, thanks.”

  His answer had thrown her. Studying the sketch on the wall across from him, Dave smiled as he waited for her to return.

  “I’m back.”

  “What else do you want to talk about?”

  “It’s late. I ought to let you go.”

  He wasn’t going to let her go that easily. He enjoyed talking with her. “We’re both old enough not to have curfews. Enough about work. Tell me about where you lived to acquire that accent.”

  “I’ve heard it sounds good over the phone.”

  “Quit flirting
.” He meant it, but still he smiled. She would thank him in the morning. She was tired, on painkillers, and it had been an emotional day for them both; another day, a better time, and his answer would be different.

  Her laugh was as nice as her voice. “You know when you dream as a kid about what you want to be?”

  “Sure. I wanted to be a pilot, fly fighter jets off an aircraft carrier.”

  “You would. I just wanted to be different than everyone around me. The South seems as different as you could get. So I decided to change even my voice.”

  “You grew up here in Chicago?”

  “Elm and Forty-seventh.”

  “You’re serious.”

  “It’s hard not to have the accent.” She had turned it off like a switch.

  “You’re good.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment. So, did you ever learn to fly?”

  Why had she wanted to change everything about herself? He let her change the subject rather than ask the question. He had a feeling it would stir painful memories. “As a matter of fact, yes. It’s the best place to be in the world, the open sky.”

  “How so?”

  “Freedom, speed, control of an intricate machine.”

  “You’re a good pilot?”

  “Yes. Would you like to go up sometime? The jet is at O’Hare.”

  “Just like that, the jet is at O’Hare.”

  “I have to fly something. I outgrew the piper cub when I was in high school.”

  “Maybe I’ll take you up on that.”

  “You should.” He didn’t like the image of her awake, alone, in a hospital room. “Would you like me to come over? We could watch an old movie; I could smuggle in dessert.” He never would have made the suggestion under ordinary circumstances, preferring to keep his work and private life separate, but the events of the afternoon had shredded that normal reticence, left him feeling very protective about her. She mattered to him.

  “Tempting.”

  “But you are passing.” The disappointment was intense.

  “Taking a rain check. It’s late. You need to go home.”

  Truth or politeness? He wasn’t sure. He’d have to make sure she didn’t politely file and forget about that rain check. “What time will you be at your office tomorrow?” If she were working from her hospital room, she would not be taking the day off, not with the open questions in this case.