“If you’re going to keep these long hours, you’re going to need something more than toast to make it through.”
Ron looked at the plate. Not just eggs, but sausage and biscuits, too. Turkey sausage and whole-wheat, high-fiber biscuits, but at least she was trying.
Nan sat next to him at the patio table and stared into their swimming pool. “What time did you get up?”
“Four.”
She glanced at him. “My father is eighty-seven, and he gets up at four every morning. That should tell you something.”
Ron shoved his plate aside and turned to face her. “I’m going to train some kids, and we’re going to bust up an auto-theft ring.”
“Did you happen to mention your experience is in narcotics?” She took a bite of eggs and studied the pile of folders. “What are those?”
“Officer profiles. I’m going to have a team of five.”
Nan raised an eyebrow. “Five? The county must be feeling generous.”
Ron nodded. Most of his years in undercover work, teams had been limited to two or three people working together at a time.
“Any promising apprentices?”
“I’ve already been told an Officer Hazard is on the team. Someone Laura wanted. It’s up to me to pick the other four.”
“Hazard. Hope he doesn’t live up to his name.”
“She.”
“A she?” Nan’s eyebrows rose. “Times have changed.”
“Yeah, but as you always like to point out, women don’t come with big egos.”
Ron pointed to the open folder beside his plate. “This guy from Henderson, Detective Lunden, looks promising. Has a lot of experience, but not a lot of successful deals. Looks like he’s a bit of a problem child.”
“Like you, you mean?”
“That’s a bad thing?” Ron asked with feigned innocence.
Nan laughed and shook her head. She knew problem children were harder to manage and control, but that they also made the best undercover cops.
Nan used her fork to chase a bite of sausage around her plate. “Do you remember Roberto Hector?” she asked.
“I still have his photo hanging on my wall at work. What about him?”
“All you ever told me about that case is that you nailed this big mob guy”
“We did.”
“Special Agent Doughtery from the DEA called the next day to apologize to you, but you weren’t home yet. He assumed you told me the whole story.”
“What whole story?”
“That there was nobody available for backup, not a single DEA agent. That you went out there alone and waited for three hours. That while this big mob guy was walking back to his car from the restaurant, you grabbed him, cuffed him, shoved him into your car, and the rest is history.” She waited for Ron to look at her. “Doughtery called to apologize because he said that you had to put yourself in an enormously dangerous situation and that they should’ve worked harder to get a DEA agent there.”
“That was years ago.”
“It was also really stupid. You knew I’d tell you how stupid that was, right? That’s why you didn’t tell me. I figured you weren’t going to tell me what you’d gotten yourself into this time, either. So I phoned Laura Gates.”
“What? Why would you do that?”
“To find out what’s really going on.”
“What did she tell you?”
“That you’re supervising an auto-theft task force.”
“That’s what I told you.” Ron tried to simmer down.
“Captain Gates doesn’t know you like I do. You were barely thirty, with three small kids at home, and yet you were willing to die that night.” Nan’s eyes softened. “Your kids are grown and gone. Your wife’s getting old and cranky. Your heart’s working overtime as it is. What’s to keep you from risking it all again?”
Ron reached for her hand and took it gently into his. “I’ve been at a desk for nearly eight years. Everybody thinks I’m an old man with nothing to offer. This is my chance to make a difference again. I see the weaknesses. I watch these young guys come in with their preconceived notions, and I see the weak links. But they don’t want to listen. They look at me like they wish I’d just go away.”
“Honey, your whole life has been about your being in control. Maybe that’s what you’re struggling with. Everything is moving around you, and you’re standing still. But at some point, we have to just accept our time has come and gone.”
“My entire career you’ve resolved not to worry about me. Let me do this. It makes me feel alive again.”
He saw the hurt in Nan’s eyes before she looked away. He regretted the words already. He’d been married long enough to know what Nan was thinking: Why don’t I make you feel alive? “Don’t take this personally. Just think of it as my new hobby.” He smiled, but he could tell he wasn’t making Nan feel any better.
She stood and picked up her plate. “I know you. You can’t go into something halfheartedly. You’re going to pour yourself into this just like you did all those years ago, when I would go days without seeing you. I’ve loved these past few years because, finally, this all became just a job to you. You clocked in and clocked out and that was it. But now the fire in your eyes is back. You’re going to dive deep, just like the old days.”
“You’ve seen me in the pool. I’m a horrible swimmer.” Ron chuckled.
“What difference does it make? Nothing I say will change your mind. You’re as stubborn as you’ve always been.” She turned to walk back inside. “Just be sure to leave me a list of songs you’d like played at your funeral.”
Inside O’Connor’s, Brandi Brown stood behind the bar, wiping shot glasses and arranging them inside the cabinets. She could hear Mason in the back, laughing at something she was sure only he thought was funny. Except for that laughter, the bar was quiet, the chairs still stacked on top of the tables. She loved this time of day. The morning sun caused a still haze to hang in the air. This was her best thinking time before the busyness began around eleven, when the doors opened and Elliot came in to sit on the third stool from the end. For about three weeks now, he’d been showing up every day, ordering the same thing, and staying for exactly forty-five minutes. She wondered where he came from, what his story was, but she never asked. She just served Enormous Elliot—as she had secretly nicknamed him—his Guinness and minded her own business. Brandi checked her watch. Usually by this time, Mason was getting the register ready and putting the chairs down. But he was talking to someone, and the rules were that she stayed out of it. She’d heard Mason open the back door thirty minutes ago. An unfamiliar male voice asked if anyone else was here.
She never heard Mason’s answer. They’d gone into the office and shut the door. She decided to pull down the chairs herself. That was Mason’s job, but Mason probably wasn’t in the mood for responsibility. Her arms ached by the time she’d set the last chair on the floor. By eleven Mason still hadn’t surfaced.
She went to unlock the doors and flip the Open sign. She grew anxious as the minutes ticked by. Mason had been spending more and more time in Vegas. She wondered if he was making plans to go again. He was rarely gone for more than a night, but she still hated not knowing the purpose of his trips. She didn’t dare ask, as she knew that she was always one question away from being back on the street.
She wiped down tables and cleaned the counters, anticipating Elliot’s arrival. He usually plopped himself on the barstool at 11:03. She stopped cleaning and stepped into the hallway that led to the office, hoping to hear something. All she heard was a muffled conversation, and since she didn’t want to get caught eavesdropping, she went back to the bar. The bell chimed and in walked Elliot, fifteen minutes late. Brandi smiled. She was starting to enjoy his company.
“Hi,” she said.
“Oh, hi.” A hint of a smile was all he could muster this morning.
“Guinness?” she asked.
“Sure.”
“You okay?”
Elliot’s eyes widened as he looked at her.
“Sorry,” she said, trying to laugh away the awkwardness. “I should leave you alone.”
“What makes you think something is wrong?” he asked.
She handed him his glass and shrugged. “I just get feelings about people. My mom used to call ’em hunches. Besides, you’re usually here earlier.”
Elliot stared into his drink. It didn’t look like he wanted to talk. Not that he was ever chatty, but he did usually ask how she was doing. And sometimes he talked with Mason.
She left him alone, but she couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that Elliot needed someone to talk to. She made her way back to him. He didn’t look up as she wiped the counter in front of him.
“I hate the sound of slot machines,” he said.
“Excuse me?”
“That sound they make. That horrible metal against metal, dingding-ding, grating-on-your-every-last-nerve sound that makes me want to bury myself alive—”
Brandi smiled. “You may be living in the wrong state.”
He glanced up at her. “This bar is pretty quiet. I like that. And believe me, Henderson is still much better than Vegas.”
“I know we don’t know each other well,” she said softly, “but I have this feeling that something is bothering you.” She tried to let him see the caring side of her that her mother used to brag about when she was a child. “Sometimes it’s easier to talk to a stranger. You should hear the things people tell me.” She laughed again, trying to break the ice, but Elliot didn’t even smile.
“It’s the slot machines, okay?”
Brandi raised an eyebrow. “Okay.
He looked around the bar. “Where’s Mason?”
Brandi felt disappointed. She was trying to be nice to Elliot, and all he wanted to know was Mason’s whereabouts? Then it dawned on her that maybe he wanted to make sure Mason wasn’t going to come around. Maybe he liked the idea of talking to her alone.
“He’s busy. Been busy all morning.”
“Doing what?”
Brandi glanced up at him. “Anything but worrying about me and this bar.”
Just then the back doors swung open and Mason walked through, followed by a man with a hard stare. Brandi looked away and grabbed her cleaning rag.
“You got the keys?” Mason asked her. She hated when he talked to her like they had nothing more in common than the fact they were both human beings.
“What keys?” she asked.
“To the register.” His voice was low. Brandi glanced at the man behind Mason. He looked annoyed … and familiar. Had he been in the bar before?
“What for?” she asked, reaching into her pocket to pull them out. She looked at Elliot, who was back to studying his drink.
“What’s with the questions?” He grabbed the keys out of her hand and started to open the register.
“What are you doing?”
A mixture of anger and embarrassment swept over Masons face. “What’s your problem?” he whispered.
“We’ve got to put this in the books. We can’t just take cash out of the register. We finally got everything straightened out—”
“Look, it’s nothing. It won’t be missed. Now shut up.”
Mason pulled open the register and grabbed a handful of large bills. Then he looked under the tray and turned to Brandi. “Where’s the rest of the money?”
“What money?”
“This isn’t all of the money.”
“I put it all in there. From the bag.”
Mason let out an angry sigh, counted the twenties in his hand, and turned to the man behind him. “Looks like the lady here got greedy.”
“I didn’t take any money!” Brandi said.
Mason shoved her backward. “I told you to shut up. We’ll discuss this later.”
“What’s the problem?” the man said.
Mason counted the twenties a second time. “Look, I’m a hundred dollars short. I can get it to you by the end of the week.”
Brandi held her breath as she watched the man’s eyes. She glanced over at Elliot. He looked like he was trying to mind his own business.
“We agreed on nine hundred and fifty dollars.”
“I know,” Mason said. “Like I said, the chick here must’ve gotten greedy. You know how it is, trying to control a woman.”
Brandi wanted to defend herself. She hadn’t taken the money and didn’t know where Mason had gotten that idea. But the man standing behind Mason looked like he wasn’t in the mood for any more trouble, so she clutched her dishrag and tried to remain calm.
“I swear, I’ll get you the rest by the end of the week,” Mason said. “Maybe by the end of the day …”
The strange man’s eyes darted around the room, noticed Elliot, then looked back at Mason. “All right, fine. But you know what happens to people who don’t pay up.”
“I’m good for it. This is just a minor glitch. It won’t happen again.” The man nodded, and Mason said, “Let’s go back to the office.”
“Just hand it over. You have what you want; now give me what I want.”
Brandi stood perfectly still. Mason handed over the money. The man stuffed it into a satchel. Brandi’s eyes met his, and she suddenly felt terrified, as if she had stared into those eyes before. She watched him reach into his bag, and the next thing she knew, he had pulled a gun.
“Police! Freeze!”
She stumbled backward, dropping her rag and crashing into a cabinet full of shot glasses. She turned, scanning for Elliot. But when she saw him, she gasped.
He pointed a gun at her and held out a badge.
Chapter 6
Freeze!” Dozer shouted. “Don’t move!”
The woman behind the bar trembled so badly she seemed unable to stand still. She looked over at Mason Capps, who was stringing together a long sentence of cuss words.
“Shut up,” Jesse said to Capps. “Turn around. Dozer, secure the woman.” Jesse cuffed Capps and then patted him down.
He was just about to tell Dozer to lock the front door of the pub when he heard, “Jesse?”
Jesse looked at the bartender.
“You are Jesse!” she said. She looked familiar, but Jesse was having a hard time placing her.
“You know this girl?” Dozer asked as he cuffed her.
“Ma’am, just be quiet, okay?” Jesse said.
“Don’t call me ma’am! Don’t you recognize me?”
“Uh …” Jesse glanced at Dozer.
“Name’s Brandi,” Dozer said. “That’s all I know.”
Jesse squeezed his eyes shut. And then it came to him. He’d just been punched by a visit from his past.
“Brandi Brown,” she said, and if she’d been able to put her hands on her hips, he could tell she would have. “Hello? Henderson High? Senior year?”
Jesse’s face warmed with embarrassment. Capps stood next to him and looked as confused as Jesse felt.
“You know this guy?” Capps asked her.
They all looked like they wanted an answer.
“She was my, uh, prom date,” Jesse finally said.
Capps let out an angry laugh.
“She doesn’t seem to be involved here, Jess,” said Dozer. His emerging grin wasn’t helping matters.
“You’re going to cut her a deal because she went to the prom with you?” Capps asked. “My lawyer will have a heyday with that one.”
“Shut up, Capps. You don’t have a lawyer.”
“I’m not involved,” Brandi said, shooting a wounded gaze toward Mason. “I don’t know anything about what’s going on.”
“Thanks for being a stand-by-your-man kind of woman,” Capps said. “Get me away from her. I don’t even want to look at her.”
Jesse sighed and was leading Capps out the back door when Capps added, “But you might want to take a look in her purse.”
“What are you talking about?” Brandi asked.
“Why?” Jesse asked.
“It’s in the b
ack office.”
Jesse looked at Dozer and turned to the back office.
Brandi pulled away from Dozer. “You’re a creep, you know that?”
The three men looked at one another, unsure to whom she was referring. Then they watched her eyes focus on Dozer. “You said your name was Elliot!”
“It is,” Dozer said.
“So you were just pretending to be nice to me?”
Dozer sighed and looked at Jesse for help, but Jesse wasn’t about to offer any. For the moment, Dozer was alone with the woman’s wrath, but soon enough, she aimed her fiery stare straight at Jesse.
“What?” he asked.
“You were a lousy prom date.”
Dozer started laughing.
“Why was I a lousy prom date?”
“Oh, please. Don’t act so stupid,” she said.
“Yeah. Don’t act so stupid.” Dozer smirked.
“Dozer is a stupid name. You should stick with Elliot,” she said.
“Its a nickname,” Dozer said defensively.
Now Jesse was laughing.
“Look,” Capps interrupted, “as much as I would love to walk down memory lane with the three of you, I want to get one thing straight. She’s as much a part of this as I am.”
The laughter stopped. Capps said, “I’m telling you. Check her purse.”
Jesse walked over to the desk. He picked it up and looked at Brandi.
“He’s lying,” Brandi said.
Jesse unzipped it and pulled out a baggie of cocaine and a hundred dollars.
“No!” Brandi shouted. “No!” She looked at Capps. “You put that in there!”
“Come on,” Jesse said. “Let’s get them out of here.” They walked toward the back door where officers were waiting.
Suddenly Brandi yanked herself away from Dozer. As Jesse turned around, he saw her trip Dozer, who landed hard on the floor. Scrambling back up quickly, he pushed her against the wall, and she kicked him in the shin.
Dozer was trying not to wince in pain. “Lady, you need to chill,” Dozer said, grabbing his shin with his free hand.
“Suddenly I’m a lady again?” she shouted.
Snitch Page 4