He went still. For a long moment he studied her. Then, in a tone so unemotional she knew he'd chosen it purposely, he asked, "You'd rather I didn't come with you?"
"It's not that," she said quickly, hurt in some way she didn't understand by the flatness of his question. "I just thought you'd have … other things to do, after being … incommunicado for two days."
"I do. But I'd rather do this."
"Why?"
The question was out before she could stop it, although she'd never meant to ask it. She'd never meant to ask for some sort of declaration, of something she wasn't sure she wanted to hear even if he would say it. Which she doubted.
Sounding as wary as she felt, he answered slowly. "Look, I know this is … new. There's a lot to deal with, and none of it is easy. More crazy, with everything that's happened, on top of how you feel about … us obsessive types."
Crazy? she thought. That was about the word for it. What else could explain what had happened, when it was so out of character for her as to be unbelievable? There was no other explanation. It had definitely been temporary insanity.
Except that she wasn't at all sure it was temporary. "I … don't know how I feel," she said, sounding, she was sure, as confused as she felt.
"Neither do I," he said.
Laurey winced inwardly, stung by his words. Then she chided herself; if she had the right to be uncertain and doubtful, then so did he, and it was selfish of her to resent the fact that he felt just as she did.
"We're both … a little dazed, I think. All this happened pretty fast. And under unusual circumstances. That's why it's no time to make any … decisions. Just let it go, Laurey. For now. You deserve a bit of time without the high drama." He chuckled rather grimly. "Believe me, it's not going to go away if you ignore it for a while."
It had been just that, a period fraught with tension, and she very much wanted to put it out of her mind. She didn't know how he lived like this, with this kind of thing going on all the time. It would drive her crazy.
Perhaps it already had, this afternoon, she thought wryly. But the temptation was irresistible, and at last she nodded.
* * *
It seemed like a very short time later—although her perception of time seemed out of whack at the moment—that they were parked on a bluff overlooking the Pacific.
"If you're feeling agile, we can go down the trail to the beach. It's a nice spot. Great view of Catalina Island at sunset."
"Let's go," she said, thinking a little physical exertion was just what she needed to take her mind off the other physical things she'd indulged in today.
He went first, to show her the way. And, she guessed from the way he kept a careful eye on her, to give her a hand if she needed it to get down the rocky bluff. He did it without comment, never implying that she would need his help, just being there in case she did. Her innate independence warred with an unexpected pleasure in having someone looking out for her in such a quiet yet resolute way.
There were only a few people sitting on the sand when they reached the beach, and a few others strolling along the waterline. This time of year the sun was already dropping toward the horizon, a huge, orange ball that would soon paint the streaky clouds in the vivid colors of pink and gold and orange and blue that Laurey had never forgotten. It was cool, but not cold—at least, not to her Seattle-adapted body—and she felt the peace of the place and the sunset begin to work its magic.
They walked for a while, then sat down, backs propped against a jutting rock that still held some warmth from the sun.
"Better?" Gage asked quietly.
"Much."
"I come here sometimes at sunset," he said. "It's a good place to let go of the tension, bit by bit, as the sun goes down."
He said nothing more as the sun made its plunge toward the sea, but there had been a lot of wisdom in those simple words, Laurey thought. A wisdom that she guessed was hard-earned. She thought it would be a good thing to try, to let the stress that had built up in the past few days just slip away as the sun slipped away.
She watched the sky, simply absorbing the beauty and the color as the scene changed with every moment, the brightness shifting to softer, darker shades, until the island nearly thirty miles offshore became only a black shape against the last of the faint glow. By the time the sky was dark, she felt utterly relaxed.
There had been a lot of beauty in her world today, she thought. Many kinds of it. And first and foremost, she admitted to herself, was the beauty Gage had brought to her with his kiss, his touch, and his tender loving. No matter what happened, that was a memory she would always treasure.
"Thank you," she whispered to him.
His shoulder was pressed against hers, so she felt rather than saw him shrug. "It's a favorite place of mine."
"For that, too," she said. "But I meant … for today."
She felt him go still. "You say that like … goodbye."
"I didn't mean it that way. I just wanted you to know that … no matter what…"
She was floundering, wishing she hadn't given into the impulse to speak her thoughts, not when there was so much chaos surrounding them. Then Gage moved, lifting his arm and settling it around her shoulders.
"Me, too," he said softly. "No matter what."
* * *
"…an outrage, a gross miscarriage of justice. Something is very wrong with this police department when a law-abiding, tax-paying citizen is insulted in this manner. I will not take this lying down, and you can be sure I will have the badge of the detective who has been harassing me without cause. I have already instructed my attorneys to prepare a lawsuit, and Detective Butler will be the first name on it."
Gage flipped off the car radio. He'd heard enough of Martin's ranting to last him a lifetime.
"He even sounds arrogant," Laurey said. She'd been in the middle of a sentence as they drove, something about how different, but equally beautiful, she found the Pacific Northwest, when the news report had come on. She'd stopped, staring at the radio as if it had suddenly started spouting a foreign language. The reporter had begun with a dispassionate recap of the case, the shock of the community at the arrest of one of its more prominent citizens, the commotion caused by his arrest, and then had cut to a tape of Martin's furious comments.
"Yes," Gage agreed. "And he's more arrogant than he sounds."
Any further discussion was cut off by the shrill chirp of his beeper. He reached for it, pulling it off his belt so that he could see it and still keep his eyes on the road; racking up a city car was not what he needed to add to his life right now.
When he saw the number displayed, he wasn't sure he was in much better shape.
"What's wrong?"
He looked at her, realizing something must have shown on his face. "I don't know. Yet. But it probably ain't good news. It's the chief. Hand me that cell phone in the glove box, will you?"
"Want me to dial it?"
"Thanks," he said, accepting the offer. "The department frowns on CPI TC's. City-property-involved traffic collisions," he explained at her look. "The standing joke is you're always at fault unless the car fell off the hoist in the garage."
"Even if someone hits you?" she asked as she looked at the pager he turned toward her and dialed the number.
"Even if," he said, taking the phone. "Although I may skate on the other night, since—Rosa? Gage. You rang?"
"Yes," came the brisk, businesslike voice of Chief de los Reyes's efficient secretary. She wasted no time with niceties. Gage knew it wasn't because she didn't care, but she would already have heard from her boss that he was all right, and she didn't believe in wasting time on redundancies. "He wants to see you."
"When?"
"Preferably now."
What the chief preferred, he generally got, and usually without complaint, after two years of proving he was fair and reasonable. A marked change from the legacy of the prior chief; Lipton had had a very different way of doing things, and it hadn't been the most pleasa
nt for his people. It had been the kind of approach that spawned cops like Robards, which was proof enough for Gage that de los Reyes's way was better, for the department and the city.
"I'm on my way, driving time," he said.
"Is Miss Templeton with you?"
Startled at the unexpected question, Gage glanced at Laurey before saying warily, "Yes, she is."
"Good. Bring her, as well."
"Why?"
"I don't question, Detective Butler, I just deliver the message."
"Rosa," he said, his tone half warning, half teasing.
"He doesn't tell me everything."
"But you still have an idea. You always do."
He thought he heard a soft chuckle. "You know he usually has good reason for whatever he asks, Gage. But I have no idea what it is in this case."
He sighed. "All right. On my—our way, driving time from the coast."
"Have a nice afternoon at the beach, did you?"
"Yes, thanks. See you in a bit," he said politely, and hung up before she could go any further with her speculations.
He handed the phone to Laurey, who put it back in the glove box and closed it before shifting in her seat to look at him expectantly.
"The chief wants to see us," he said.
"Us?"
He nodded, then, before she could ask, said, "I don't know why you."
"And I don't get a choice?"
He lifted a brow. "Want me to let you out here?"
She made a face at him. "You know what I mean."
"Sure, you have a choice. You're a civilian. He's not your boss."
"But he's the chief of police."
"Yes. But he doesn't throw his weight around, not like that." He gave her a lopsided grin. "Me, he orders. You, he requests."
"Is this like getting called to the principal's office?"
"For me. You'll be treated like an honored guest." Her brow furrowed, and he relented. "I'm kidding. De los Reyes is a good guy. You met him. Sometimes he has to be the boss, but he's always fair."
After a moment she nodded and settled back into the passenger seat of the plain brown sedan as he made a turn onto the Marina del Mar street that would eventually become Trinity Street West
.
"That reminds me," she said. "What did he do?"
"What did who do?"
"The chief. You said back at the house that he … took care of Martin hiring someone else."
"Oh." Gage had almost forgotten she'd heard that exchange. "He, er, pointed out to Martin's lawyer that we knew he was Martin's only contact."
"You mean … the lawyer could be part of it? Could have … arranged the attempts on you?"
"That's what de los Reyes let him think we're thinking."
"But you're not?"
"No. Not really. He's a big mouth, but that comes with the territory. He might have lousy taste in clients and skate around the ethical edges, but I don't think he'd let himself get caught up in a contract hit situation."
"Then why…?"
Gage coughed. "Er, I think the chief wanted to let Farrell know that keeping his client under control—and me alive—would be in his best interest."
"Do you think Farrell will take his advice?"
"Unless he wants his life and career to become … difficult. De los Reyes gets a lot of respect in this town. He has a lot of influence, although he rarely uses it. But if he really wanted to make the guy's life miserable, don't think he couldn't do it."
"I don't think I would ever underestimate him," Laurey said seriously.
"People who do are usually sorry. It was that way on the street, and it's been that way ever since he walked into a job nobody else wanted to touch. He pulled Trinity West out of the gutter by sheer force of personality and will."
"Things were … that bad?"
He eased the car to a stop at a red light at the intersection that marked the border of Marina del Mar and Marina Heights. The sign drivers heading into Marina Heights saw was a standard metal street sign with the rather innocuous city seal stating Entering Marina Heights. Going the other way, he knew, into Marina del Mar, they saw a much more elegant—and expensive—carved wooden sign with ocean waves and a leaping porpoise below, and gold lettering above declaring you were Welcome to Marina del Mar. And therein, he'd often thought, lay the tale.
"They were a disaster waiting to happen," he said in answer to her question. "But de los Reyes took a city government that was ready to jettison the whole place and contract with the county sheriff for police, and convinced them to give him a year to pull it off. He took a department on the brink of chaos and turned it into the toughest, best run PD in the county, if not the state. He took a bunch of cops that didn't give a damn anymore and turned them around until most of us would follow him into hell if he asked."
"And what did it cost him?" Laurey asked quietly.
He glanced at her as the light changed and he accelerated through the intersection. She had come a long way, if that was her first thought. "Does it matter?" he asked, just as quietly.
"I suppose only to … anyone who cared about him."
Was there an edge to those soft words that was meant for him? Not for the first time, he wished they hadn't been interrupted by Kit's arrival this afternoon. Those quiet, intimate moments of aftermath were when they could have—should have—talked of what had happened between them, when they should have worked out where they would go from here. But they had been interrupted, and now he didn't quite know how to bring it up. He'd thought to do it at the beach, as they watched that glorious sunset, but she had been so wound-up that getting her to let go of the tension had seemed more important right then.
"He … said something about that once," Gage said at last, as he made the turn into the parking lot at Trinity West. "Back when he took the job. Said he could do it because there was nothing to distract him. That there was nothing else that mattered to him, so the work ahead would get his all. And it did."
"He sounds … lonesome."
"Maybe. Nobody's really close to him. Kit worries about him, but she worries about everyone. She doesn't like it that he doesn't seem to need anyone."
He had the car parked and turned off before she said, "Sometimes those are the ones who need someone the most." There was no particular inflection in her voice, but something in the way she was looking at him made him wonder yet again if there wasn't some message there for him.
"Look, we need to talk," he said. "I know that. But right now…" He lifted one shoulder in a helpless shrug.
"I know. The principal's waiting. Let's go."
* * *
Chapter 16
« ^ »
They stood in the anteroom of the chief's office, waiting. It was after five now, and most of the daytime personnel were already gone, including Rosa, but it wasn't unusual for de los Reyes to be around after hours, as he apparently was now. He was on the phone and motioned through the open door to them, indicating he would be only a few minutes. Gage nodded and turned to Laurey, only to find she had moved away, was walking slowly down the small room, staring at the rows of photographs and plaques on the walls.
This room was normally not open to the public, but the chief made certain it was always left open for the officers of Trinity West. Gage himself had spent some time in here, whenever something rattled his faith in what he was doing. Too bad lately it hadn't helped much. He supposed it was burnout, something most cops were subject to at one time or another. But it felt much deeper than that, had to be deeper, if even this room didn't help.
To many of them, it was a sort of shrine. To the rest, a hall of fame, commemorating Trinity West officers who had been honored for valor. Some were still cops, some were not. Some were still alive. And some were not. Kit's fiancé, Bobby Allen, who had been killed during a bank robbery among them.
And one … always that one, the one where they didn't know if he was dead or alive.
He watched as Laurey stopped before the most recent of the
plaques, Cruz Gregerson's, the Medal of Valor he had received just over a year ago for defusing a bomb when there'd been no time to call out the bomb squad. She didn't smile at the photo of the man she knew but rather looked very solemn. She walked on, slowly, then paused again before another plaque. He knew which one it was by her surprised expression. Ryan Buckhart looked quite different with his hair shorn short and in full dress uniform. But looks didn't change what was commemorated there; Ryan had risked his life, and had indeed nearly died of smoke inhalation after pulling three small children from a blazing house three years ago.
After a moment she continued, walking slowly, making the turn at the far end of the room and heading back toward him. He knew by the progression of emotions on her face—puzzlement, curiosity and then awe—when she had reached the place on the memorial wall most of Trinity West tried to avoid. She glanced at all three plaques, then read each one in turn. The car accident, where he'd risked horrible burns and had nearly sliced off his own arm dragging a baby out of an engulfed car. The bank robbery where he'd taken a bullet in the side protecting an elderly woman who had inadvertently walked into the line of fire. And the last, the most amazing, where he had given himself up in exchange for four children being held hostage by a crazed, barricaded suspect and had nearly died from the resultant torture.
She read them all. Then she turned to look at Gage.
"Three?" she asked.
He nodded. "And those are only the tip of the iceberg. Yeager was the best, the best of all of us. And he gave something to everyone he worked with. There's not a cop who worked with him who wouldn't say so. He gave all he had to the people he worked with and the people he served." He nodded toward the plaques. "Those are just the most spectacular of the things he did. The whole list would take a book."
"That's … amazing."
"Yeager was amazing."
"Was? Is he … dead?"
He looked at the photo. And spoke the painful truth. "We don't know."
Laurey blinked. "What?"
"He quit under … some pretty awful circumstances a few years back. We've … lost track of him. He might still be alive…"
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