In Full Force: Badges of Becker County

by Kathy Altman

  “Everything all right in there?” she asked as calmly as she could manage.

  “Whatever you’re planning,” Kate said breathlessly, “you should know I have Matt right here beside me. No unexpected guests, all right? FYI, we locked the doors and windows and lowered the blinds.”

  At that same moment, Mo came up behind her, and handed her a piece of paper. No attic access. Blinds closed. Fire department’s checking bathroom window.

  Below that, Allison’s here.

  Charity stuffed the note in her pocket, gave Mo a nod, and they took up their positions again.

  “What can we do for you, Kate?” She winced at the quiver in her voice and focused on Mo, who gave her a thumbs-up. “There must be something you want. Something we can do for you in exchange for letting those boys go.”

  No answer.

  “Kate?”

  Nothing.

  She licked her lips. “Allison’s here, Kate. She’s worried about you. If you won’t talk to me, will you talk to her?”

  Charity and Mo both jumped when something hit the door. The murmur of Drew’s voice sounded again, right before Kate yelled, “Shut up!”

  Charity’s breath quickened. She bounced on her toes. With every fiber of her being she wanted in, wanted to wrench Kate’s gun away from her and hustle the boys out to their families and slap cuffs on the woman who’d strangled her own best friend. Every cop instinct told her to wait, to have patience, until Kate got less volatile. By now, Pratt would have called in a trained negotiator.

  Charity could only hope Kate kept it together until that negotiator arrived.

  “No. I won’t talk to my daughter.” At last Kate’s voice drifted out to them. “But there is something you can arrange for me.”

  Outside the house, a woman yelled. Roberta West. Fear laced her strident tone, and Charity whispered a prayer of thanks that Pratt was out there to handle her hysterics. Her husband wouldn’t be far behind.

  “You know how this works, Kate,” Charity said. “I’ll do whatever you want, but you have to show us a gesture of good faith. Let the boys go. I’ll come in. You’ll have me.” She ignored Mo, who was poking a finger at her and giving her the don’t-even-think-about-it glare, as if he knew what was coming. “I’ll come in unarmed.”

  Mo threw out his hand in a what the fuck? gesture and Charity straightened, prepared to hand over her weapon once she got the word.

  “All right,” Kate said, and Charity squeezed her eyes shut in a brief prayer of thanks. “You can come in, as long as you don’t bring your gun. But I’m only sending out Matt. Drew stays with me.”

  Damn it. Damn, damn, damn, damn, damn. Charity sighed and shrugged at Mo. He held up a finger, as if to say, we got one. One’s good. And he was right. One was better than none.

  But she’d get them both out alive, if it was the last thing she did.

  After long, agonizing seconds, the lock clicked. Slowly the door swung open enough to reveal Matt’s pale, tortured expression. You poor baby. He stared at Charity with half-horrified, half-hopeful eyes, and she gave him an encouraging nod.

  “It’s okay,” she said softly. Her arm was extended at her side, her Sig resting against her leg. “Open the door all the way.”

  Matt pulled the door wide, giving Charity a clear view into the room. Kate stood with her back to the wall between the bathroom and the closet. Drew knelt in front of her, facing outward, hands laced at the nape of his neck, Kate’s pistol pointed at his head. Charity tensed. Kate had left her head and upper torso vulnerable; Charity could take her out with a well-placed shot, but Kate’s finger rode the trigger of her own gun. No way Charity could risk Drew’s life by taking the shot. Her gaze dropped.

  Drew’s stare was steady, but his lips were folded in and his shoulders twitched, as if preparing for movement. Charity’s thighs locked and her stomach slid. She stared him down, hoping he got the message. Don’t move. Don’t you dare move.

  She lifted her gaze to Kate, who wasn’t looking as smug as Charity had expected. “Hold it right there, Matt,” she ordered and tipped her chin at Charity. “Get rid of the gun.”

  Matt’s body quivered as he hovered in the bedroom doorway, wide eyes fastened on the weapon at Charity’s side. She lifted her arm to the right, straight out, signaling for Mo to take her piece. A thumping sound to her left had Charity jerking her head to the side. Allison ran down the hallway, hair a tangled mess, face wet with tears.

  “Mom?” she yelled. “Mom!”

  Dix was right behind her.

  “Close it!” Kate screamed and gestured frantically at the door with the nose of her gun. “Close the door!”

  Drew looked up at Kate, saw the gun no longer pointed at him and dove to the floor. Charity brought her weapon up and aimed as Mo flew past her knees and tackled Matt. Charity fired, slamming Kate back against the wall.

  “Mom!” Allison launched herself through the doorway at the same instant Kate hit the wall and her gun went off.

  Charity’s brain reverberated with the double blast. White noise plugged her ears and gunpowder stung her nostrils. Weapon extended, she stepped over Mo, moved quickly to the nine millimeter and scooped it up. Keeping an eye on Kate, she dropped the magazine, shoved it into a pocket and tucked the pistol in her waistband at her back. She pulled out her cuffs. Kate stared up at her with an astonished expression, tears leaking out of her eyes and onto the carpet, blood welling around the bullet hole in her shoulder. She’d live.

  Charity rolled her over and cuffed her.

  Despite the thick ringing in her ears, she could hear Mo shouting for the EMTs, and heavy footsteps on the stairs. She finally registered the agonized groans of someone behind her. Drew. She swung around and out of the corner of her eye saw Mo hand Matt off to Dix and rush through the door. Drew sat slumped against his bed, moaning, staring down at the blood smeared across his palms. But the blood wasn’t his.

  Allison lay across his outstretched legs, eyes closed, face whiter than the petals of a meadow daisy.

  * * *

  Charity made her way across the Wests’ yard, this time aiming for the massive front door. She was exhausted, but Grady had begged her to come by before she went home for the day. If he hadn’t begged her, she’d have begged him.

  When she stepped up onto the front porch, she texted him instead of ringing the doorbell. It was after ten; no sense in waking everyone up. Grady texted back that the front door was open, and she should come on up. Tucking her phone back into its case, she eased inside the house and made her way upstairs to Grady’s room. He stood in the doorway, in gray sweatpants and a hoodie, one hand outstretched. Once he’d tugged her close, she wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed her face against his throat.

  She allowed his steady heartbeat to soothe her, then pushed gently out of his embrace. “How’s Matt?” she whispered.

  He nodded over his shoulder at his bed. In the dim light that spilled from the open bathroom door, she could make out a lump in the center of the mattress. “All right, thanks to you. After Deputy Morrissey took his statement, my parents both insisted on checking him over. Justine made him some warm milk and he was asleep after the first sip. It was my idea and not his, by the way, having him in here with me. You know, in case the subject ever happens to come up.”

  She smiled. “I would never question his courage.” Her mouth went flat. “Especially after today.”

  “I couldn’t bring myself to let him out of my sight.” Grady stroked a finger along her jaw. “I didn’t get a chance to thank you earlier. Not properly.”

  They hadn’t had a chance to talk much at all. Grady and Justine had made it halfway to the rehab facility before Pratt called them back. When they’d arrived home, the West house had been in chaos. Paramedics, deputies, regulators, and family members had rushed in and out while neighbors milled around the statues and topiary, gawking. Cal and Nina and the rest of their shift had lingered beside the ladder truck, ready to render any assistance at
a moment’s notice. Phil Smiley had wandered from room to room snapping pictures, and the Wests’ cook had served coffee and biscotti to everyone, including the crowd outside. Justine had screamed at her parents to lock the alcohol away, and Peyton had alternated between apologizing to Drew and sobbing that he’d gotten Allison shot.

  “I called the hospital before coming over,” Charity said. “The surgery went well. They’re not thrilled they had to take Allison’s spleen, and she suffered some damage to her ribs, but the doctors said it could have been so much worse.”

  Grady nodded, took her by the hand, and led her into the room. They settled on the padded bench under the window. She smelled Ivory soap and coconut shampoo, and pictured Grady hovering outside the bathroom door while Matt showered warmth back into his bones. She snatched up a throw pillow and plucked at the fringe.

  “I wish I could be with you tonight,” Grady said gruffly.

  She looked up, and in the shadows watched his jaw flex. “I don’t think Matt would go along with that.”

  “He might, after today.”

  “I wouldn’t want it that way. I wouldn’t want anyone to like me because I did them a favor.”

  “A favor? You saved his life.”

  She shook her head. “Drew’s the one who deserves the credit for that. You should have heard how he kept Kate talking. How he tried to keep her calm. I suspect Pratt will see he receives a citation.”

  “That would be great. Especially after what he’s been through.” Grady reached out, and slid his fingers through her hair. He watched it spill softly against her cheek, and did it again. Her skin tingled.

  “How did Allison find out her mom killed Sarah?” he asked.

  Charity caught his hand and clutched it against the pillow on her lap. The whole thing still seemed so unreal. “Allison told Pratt she got suspicious when she heard about the ear buds, since the last time she saw them, they were in her mom’s purse. She had assumed her mom was going to buy her a new pair, then suddenly they’re the murder weapon. She started snooping and found Sarah’s phone.”

  “Which is why she tried to kill herself.”

  Charity nodded. “Not only because she was appalled by what her mother had done, but because she didn’t know how she’d face anyone once the truth came out. And she couldn’t envision her own life with Kate in prison.” She twined her fingers with his.

  “I should have known,” she whispered. “Kate was too calm after Allison’s suicide attempt. She was too adamant about not blaming Drew. Of course she blamed him. She blamed you all. In a situation like that, parents usually blame themselves. Not Kate.”

  She pulled her hand free, set aside the pillow, and got to her feet. Arms wrapped around her waist, she stared over at Grady’s sleeping son. “She had it all figured out. She planned to marry off Allison to Drew so she could live the good life. She was tired of working two jobs, tired of not being able to pay her bills, tired of being tired.” She ran a palm down her face. “But dear Lord, she was convincing. I could have sworn all those tears were real.”

  “So what was my father? Plan B?”

  “He was her alibi. She was especially proud of that. When we took her statement, she must have said half a dozen times how tickled she was that the great Hampton West almost helped to frame his own grandson for murder.” Charity sighed, and settled once more on the bench, lifting her knee to provide a much needed buffer between her and the man she needed so badly she ached. “It explains why he showed up at the police station barely able to function. She’d drugged him.”

  Grady grunted. “Probably with something he himself gave her. My dad’s a little too free with the prescription pad.”

  Oh, the irony. “Kate told us she and Hampton often stayed late at the office to have sex. The night of the murder, she spiked Hampton’s drink so she’d have time to meet up with Sarah, kill her, and get back to the hospital before he woke up. Surveillance footage confirms it. She was determined to set Drew up for it, which is what the text message and the planted necklace were about. I don’t know how Kate got hold of Sarah’s phone beforehand—we’re guessing they met earlier in the day, maybe for lunch, and Kate snagged it then. She probably set up that second meeting on the pretext of returning the phone. As far as the necklace, she wouldn’t have had any trouble getting hold of something Drew owned—her affair with your father meant she had access to the house. All she had to do was wait for everyone to be out.”

  “Christ,” Grady muttered. “That is one diabolical bitch. What I don’t understand is why she didn’t just blackmail my father for the money. He’d have paid.”

  “It was about more than the money. She wanted the prestige of your family name.” Charity dry-washed her face. “I should have followed up on her alibi sooner. It would have saved a hell of a lot of heartache.”

  “Stop it. You did your job, and you did it well.” He tugged her knee out of its bend and slid her close. Her equipment belt creaked as he moved her. He pressed his mouth to her temple. “No one died here today.”

  She leaned into him. “There is that.” Then she sobbed an inhale, dug her fingers into his sweatshirt and clung. By breathing through her mouth, she fought the overwhelming urge to weep, but she couldn’t ward off the trembling. Grady tucked her under his chin and let his palms rove her back, rubbing and squeezing, warming her skin.

  “Is this reaction?” he murmured. “Or something else?”

  “I could have gotten him shot,” she whispered brokenly. “Your son could have died.”

  “It didn’t happen,” he said. “It won’t happen.”

  She pushed away, embarrassed to see she’d left a circle of drool on Grady’s hoodie.

  He didn’t seem to notice. He sighed when she yawned. “It was selfish of me, asking you here. You’re wrecked. Go home. We can talk tomorrow. The future kick-ass sheriff of Becker County needs her sleep.”

  Charity pushed upright. “I withdrew from the election.”

  “You what?” He cringed at the volume behind his words and glanced at the bed. Matt didn’t stir.

  “I’ve made too many mistakes,” Charity said. “I can’t…it wouldn’t be fair. To the department, or to the county.”

  “But this is all you’ve ever wanted. And after today, especially—”

  “I told you. I want respect, not appreciation. And I certainly don’t want credit for something the entire department made happen.”

  He was watching her closely. “You don’t sound too upset.”

  “I’m disappointed, though I don’t have anyone but myself to blame.”

  “Not even me?”

  “Not even you. I’m my own woman, Grady. I make my own decisions.”

  “Touché,” he whispered, and leaned in for a kiss. Almost immediately he pulled back. “Does this mean we can go on a real date?”

  Charity’s stomach tilted. “Don’t you have to get back to Seattle?”

  “Not for a while. I don’t want to make Matt switch schools again. Not now. It’ll be good for him to hang with his cousins. And I think it’ll be very good for me to hang with you. Starting tomorrow. You deserve a day off. What do you say?”

  She braced against a shudder. “Your back pocket’s beeping.”

  “Nope, that’s yours.”

  “Oh. Sorry.” She pulled her cell free of its case and peered at the screen. “I have to take this,” she said softly. “Be right back.”

  She walked quickly down the hall, more to gain distance from Grady than to keep from waking Matt. She spoke quietly with Brenda June, who only wanted to check one last time that Charity was okay. After ending the call, Charity leaned over the balustrade and peered down at the sleek marble floor of the foyer. No one stirred. The heat kicked on. Overhead the glass droplets of the chandelier tinkled, and Charity stared at the muted prisms on the floor.

  Full circle. After twelve years she’d come full circle, and she didn’t have many more options now than she did then.

  Her throat was sudd
enly parched. Before she could change her mind, she headed downstairs. She’d grab a drink from the fridge. One for Grady, too. Pretend she had a mission other than avoidance.

  She was pushing at the stainless steel refrigerator door with her right elbow, a bottle of sweet tea in each hand, when she heard footsteps behind her. She turned, but it wasn’t Grady who stood in the kitchen doorway.

  Roberta West wore the same coral pajamas and gray cardigan she’d had on the night Charity had driven Grady to the hospital. Same disgruntled expression, too. Charity watched silently as the other woman found a glass, filled it with water from the sink, and settled back against the counter.

  “I suppose you think I should thank you,” Roberta drawled. “Even though you were only doing your job.”

  “No, Dr. West. Thanks is the last thing I expect from you.”

  “Nevertheless, I am grateful.” The other woman produced a smile. It was flimsy, but genuine. “Thank you for rescuing my grandsons.”

  “On behalf of the Becker County Sheriff’s Department, you’re welcome.”

  “I know you did this in part for my son.” Roberta set the glass on the counter with a clack. “He deserves better than you.”

  Here we go. “I’ve always thought so.”

  “But you’re going after him again.” She gestured at Charity’s chest. “With everything you’ve got.”

  Barely resisting the urge to hug the plastic bottles close, Charity didn’t bother to correct her. She let her arms dangle at her sides.

  Roberta frowned. “I looked up the statute of limitations on arson.”

  Charity went motionless. “Because?”

  “Because before I confessed, I wanted to make sure you couldn’t arrest me.”

  “Wait. What?” Charity’s tongue was suddenly five times too big for her mouth. “You’re saying you’re the one who burned down the Shake Shack?” She stumbled to the granite-covered island between them and let the plastic bottles tumble to the surface. “Grady and I agreed to let everyone think we’d done it because we were afraid Jerzy would take the fall. All these years, I assumed one of my brothers set that fire.” She struggled to process what Roberta West was telling her. “What did Jerzy ever do to you?”