Where Loyalties Lie (MidKnight Blue Book 3)

by Sherryl Hancock

  “I heard we had a celebrity in the building,” the AG said, smiling at her.

  “Well, I’m not Elvis, but…” She grinned. The AG laughed, and Midnight noted he was a very handsome man, much more so than the last AG, the one that had presented her with her Peace Officer of the Year plaque.

  “I hope everything is going well in here,” he said, looking around at the men.

  Midnight nodded. “I think I’ve got ’em all fooled.” Everyone laughed.

  “Trying to boost some of my people again, are you?” the AG asked.

  “Just on a part-time basis.”

  “Well, keep up the good work.” The AG shook Midnight’s hand again and left. After another half an hour, the meeting broke up.

  Midnight was happy to slide behind the wheel of the Maserati again. “Well, that was fun!” she said, taking her jacket off and tossing it over the seat. “Who is Mike Green, anyway? And why does he hate women—or is it just my winning personality he doesn’t like?”

  Griff shook his head. “No, he just went through a nasty divorce that just about cost him his job, and he’s not real fond of the feminine part of the human race at this point.”

  “Great, lucky me.”

  “Don’t worry about it, I’ll set him straight.”

  “I won’t be attending your IA hearing in the near future, I hope.”

  “Don’t worry, Mike and I go way back.”

  “So did Mussolini and the Italians.”

  “Funny.”

  “I thought so.”

  They arrived at the hotel and checked in, then went off to their separate rooms. Midnight immediately called home, leaving a message with Marie that she had changed hotels and giving her room number. She also told Marie to have Rick call her when he got in.

  She undressed and got into the shower. Just when she had rinsed the shampoo out of her hair, she heard the phone ringing. The caller hung up before she could get to it. Assuming it had been Rick, she called home. Marie answered and told Midnight that Rick wasn’t home yet, but she had given him the message when he called from his car phone. Midnight thanked her and hung up. She went back to finish her shower.

  An hour later she was lying on the bed when the phone rang again. She picked it up.

  “Yes.”

  “Why’d you change hotels?” Rick asked, sounding irritated.

  “I’m fine, how are you?” she replied. There was silence on the other end of the line. “I changed hotels because Griff told me that the Clarion was smack in the middle of crime central.”

  “Griff?” Rick said. “He’s there?”

  “Yes.” Midnight was not in the mood to provide him with any more information. But it wasn’t that easy.

  “What for?”

  “The same thing I’m here for.”

  “I see,” Rick said, his tone changing.

  “What is it you think you see, Rick?” Midnight sighed.

  “Why didn’t you tell me he was going up there?”

  “I didn’t know.”

  “Oh, and just what hotel is Griff staying in,” he asked snidely.

  Midnight rolled her eyes. She should have seen this one coming. “Don’t start this shit with me, Rick, I’m not in the mood.”

  “I take it he’s in the same hotel then.”

  “And if he is?” Midnight’s growing anger made her sit up.

  “You wouldn’t be sharing a room to save money now, would you?” He was out and out leering now.

  “Fuck you,” Midnight said, and promptly hung up. After a minute she picked up the phone and dialed her house. Marie answered again.

  “Is Rick home yet?” Midnight asked.

  “Not yet, ma’am.”

  “Thanks,” Midnight said, and put the receiver down. “Sonofabitch!” She picked up the television remote from the end table and hurled it at the wall. She stood up and started pacing the room like a caged panther. Her mind was reeling at what she suspected was happening at home. “Shit!” she said, remembering that she hadn’t even said hello to her daughter. But she couldn’t call now, while she was so irritated. Telling herself that she would call later, she dialed the hotel operator.

  “Put me through to Phil Griffin’s room, please.”

  “I’ll connect you, thank you.”

  “Yeah,” Griff said a few moments later.

  “Where’s the nearest bar?”

  “My my, aren’t we starting early.”

  “Just shut up and be at my room in twenty minutes.”

  “Why, Midnight, I didn’t know you cared,” Griff replied with mock bashfulness.

  Midnight sighed. “Cute. Just be here, okay?”

  “You got it.”

  Twenty minutes later, Midnight answered the door to her room wearing her customary jeans and boots. “Let’s go,” she said, reaching over and pulling her FORS jacket off the chair and leaving Rick’s jean jacket behind. She didn’t want anything to do with her husband at the moment.

  In the car, Midnight put in her Twister CD. She had come to really like some of the songs on the album, even though most of it was Joe’s type of music—rock. “Long Way Down” came on, and Midnight thought the words basically fit her current mood.

  She reached over and turned the song up. Griff was accustomed to her propensity for loud music; he knew it usually meant she was pissed, and now he suspected it had something to do with her husband.

  The lyrics blasted out hurt and anger over a damaged relationship, and it was obvious to Griff that Midnight was feeling every one of them. When the last notes died and the next song started, Midnight turned the radio back down.

  “Problems?” Griff asked.

  “And then some.”

  An hour and two Long Island Iced Teas later, Griff asked Midnight what was going on.

  “What’s not going on?” Midnight said sullenly.

  “Marriage trouble?” Griff looked pointedly at her left hand. “You are still married, aren’t you?”

  Midnight nodded.

  “I wasn’t sure, since you’re not wearing your ring…”

  “You noticed, huh?” Griff nodded. “Yeah, Rick noticed that too, got into a nasty fight about it this morning on the way to the office.”

  “What, does he think you’re going to come up here and play the swinging single? Doesn’t know you very well, does he?”

  “That jerk has nerve, thinking something like that about me, considering…” She trailed off, as if she’d lost her train of thought.

  “Considering what, Midnight?”

  She looked at him, not seeming as tipsy as she had a few minutes before. “Considering the bastard is more than likely cheating on me as we speak.”

  “No way!” Griff said in disbelief.

  “Oh, yes way, Griff. He’s seein’ some old girlfriend, a society slut.”

  “What the fuck is wrong with the guy?”

  “Got me. I guess I’m just not classy enough for His Majesty, can’t take me to high tea or anything.”

  “Well, if the dumb sonofabitch is fool enough to let you go, just promise me one thing.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Promise you’ll call me first,” Griff said, his face totally serious. Midnight began to laugh all the same.

  “I thought you swore off women for at least five years.”

  “It was seven, and you aren’t the garden-variety woman.”

  “You can say that again,” Midnight said, grinning. When Griff opened his mouth to do just that, she said, “Don’t do it, or I’ll be forced to shoot you!”

  They spent the rest of the evening getting a little toasted, and had to pay some passerby to drive them back to the hotel, and then pay for a cab for the guy to get back to the bar. They wound up laughing their heads off at the door to Midnight’s room.

  “Thanks, Griff,” Midnight said. “This was exactly what I needed.”

  “You aren’t going to think that in the morning when old Ace wants to take you up in one of his customized Cessn
as.”

  Midnight immediately looked contrite. “Oh, shit, I forgot all about it. Think a large injection of Dramamine will help?”

  “Don’t know, but it’s worth a try.” Griff leaned down and kissed Midnight on the forehead. She looked up at him, her eyes serious. Griff nodded. “You got me, I’d like to prove to you how little you need that jerk you’re married to, but I know you better than that, and I know you’re a glutton for punishment. Besides, I wouldn’t want Sinclair after me. I’ll see you in the morning. Oh dark thirty, is it?”

  “Oh God, don’t remind me!” Midnight said, smiling at her old friend. “It really was like nine, wasn’t it?” Her memory was not as clear as it could have been, given her current condition.

  Griff nodded, smiling.

  “Thank God!” She turned and went into her room. After taking off her clothes, she called the front desk for messages. Rick hadn’t called back—or if he had, he hadn’t left any messages. Midnight went to the desk and looked at his jacket. Slowly she picked it up and pulled it on. The sleeves were too long; she had rolled them up on the plane. She sniffed the collar, smelling the very familiar scent of her husband.

  Still wearing the jacket, she climbed into bed. She snuggled down under the blankets, trying to keep the image of Rick with Sheila out of her mind. Finally she fell asleep, her pillow just slightly damp from her tears. It was something not many people would see, or even believe about the rock-solid lieutenant of FORS. But it was real, and it was her.

  The next morning, Midnight showed no signs of the drinking binge. Griff looked terrible, and Midnight let him know it.

  “Whoa!” she said, grimacing. “Who dug you up? And what did you do with Phil Griffin?”

  Griff looked at her, disgusted. “Shut up. The least you could do is look half as bad as I feel. Any decent person would do at least that!”

  Midnight laughed. “Oh, I don’t feel a hundred percent, but you can’t believe what they can do with makeup these days!”

  Griff rolled his head across the passenger seat headrest, leaving his head lolling as he looked up at her. “Think you can do anything for me?”

  Midnight pretended to assess him, and finally shook her head sorrowfully. “I think the mortician did all he could, I really do.” They were both laughing before she finished her sentence. She started the car and put it in gear.

  “Now, where am I going?” she asked. “And don’t get me lost!”

  “Head down One-sixty and then pick up Fifty going east.”

  “Okeydokey.”

  Griff put his hands to his head. “And stop being so goddamned cheerful!”

  Twenty-five minutes later, they drove up to BNE’s hangar. The head pilot, Tom Dilinger, came out to meet them. “Good morning,” he said cheerfully, his smile wide and genuine. He had liked what Midnight had to say the day before—anything that put his planes in higher demand helped his program. Besides, he thought Ms. Chevalier had her shit together, and that was what really counted for him.

  Midnight smiled at him. She had liked him in the meeting, thinking he was pretty straightforward and not hung up on the fact that she was a woman. “Good morning,” she said as Dilinger opened the car door for her.

  “Hey, Phil,” Dilinger called.

  “Hey, Dil.”

  “We’re waiting on the chief, then we can get under way. You don’t get airsick, do ya, Lieutenant?” Dilinger asked.

  “It’s Midnight, and normally no.”

  “Normally?” Dilinger looked closer at Griff and started to laugh. “Well that was dumb!”

  “Now you tell me,” Griff said, inciting more laughter from both Midnight and Dilinger.

  The Chief of the Bureau of Narcotic Enforcement drove up. He got out of his car, smiling at the scene before him. Griff was leaning back against the Maserati, his arms wrapped around his stomach, trying to stop laughing. Midnight and Dilinger were all but rolling on the ground. John Davies, who had come up through the ranks and had a pretty good sense of humor of his own, leaned against his car, folding his arms in front of his chest. “Is it something I said?”

  The other three officers looked at him, making a supreme effort to stop laughing. Eventually they were successful. “Good morning, Chief,” Griff said.

  “Obviously,” John replied with a grin. He looked at his chief pilot. “Are we set up?”

  “Yep, set and ready.”

  “Good, then let’s head up, Lieutenant.” The chief gestured for Midnight to precede him. “After you.”

  “Thank you,” Midnight replied.

  Ten minutes later, she found herself strapped into the observer seat of a modified Cessna. She was wearing a headset and had a voice-activated mike at her lips. Griff had been very happy to learn there was only room in the plane for three of them.

  Utilizing the gyro binoculars, which stabilized the view for the user and compensated for the movement of the aircraft, Midnight got a bird’s-eye view of the vehicle playing their “bad guy.”

  “So this is very effective for counter-surveillance, right?” Midnight said.

  “Yep,” Dilinger replied. “We can keep our agents from driving into a trap. If the bad guy turns down a dead-end street, or doubles back, we can tell the surveillance team on the ground before they make the mistake of following them. It’s also safer for ground pursuits—if our guys lose ’em on the ground, we can still track them from the air. That way our guys don’t have to endanger themselves or innocent citizens by running lights or driving at high speeds to catch up to the bad guy. We can stay on them and let the ground crews know where they’re at.”

  Midnight nodded, very impressed with the Bureau’s advanced equipment. She was excited about the possible opportunity to use them.

  “You use these for search warrants, and raids too?” she asked, thinking about what she could do with such technology.

  Dilinger nodded enthusiastically, happy to talk about his program and its capabilities. “Yes. As you can imagine, we catch a lot of strays that way.”

  “This is great!” Midnight exclaimed.

  Later in the day she was given the opportunity to ride in the Bureau’s transport aircraft. Again she was impressed with the Bureau’s resources and technology. She sat in the copilot’s chair, next to Dilinger. Dilinger zealously answered all of her questions about the equipment they had put into the aircraft, and what certain instruments meant and did, obviously happy to brag.

  By the end of the day, Midnight was very excited about this aspect of her trip. She had spoken with the chief a number of times, finding John Davies very easy to talk to as well as very intelligent. Chief Davies had told her he would be happy to work with her on some sort of resource sharing, and had given Griff the go-ahead to negotiate this new relationship between the San Diego Police Department and the San Diego Regional Office of the Bureau of Narcotic Enforcement.

  That night, arriving back at the hotel after dinner with Griff, Midnight found that Rick had called once. But after thinking about where she suspected he had been the night before, she threw the message away and spent the rest of the evening in her room, watching movies on HBO. The phone rang once, and Midnight decided that if it was Rick, she’d just give him something to think about, so she didn’t answer. She knew if it was important he would text her, but she also knew he wouldn’t call her if he was with Sheila, because she would not recognize the number and would probably ask about it.

  The next day, Midnight went to the range with some of the members of the BNE and the Bureau of Investigations. She was given the opportunity to shoot some of the BNE’s weapons, one of which was the Benelli shotgun. Although its kick left a large, nasty-looking bruise on her shoulder, she impressed all of the men with her accuracy. She’d been taught by the best, she told them, her second-in-command—Joe.

  That afternoon Midnight very much regretted showing off for the boys. Her shoulder was aching all the way down her arm, so much so that when Griff showed up at her room with Chinese takeout, he suggested s
he go to the doctor. Midnight shook her head. “I’m okay, just a little sore.” To prove she was fine, she reached over with her sore arm to pick up one of the cans of soda he’d brought. She promptly dropped it as pain shot up her arm.

  “Oh, yeah, just a little sore, I can tell.” Griff said, his face serious. “Don’t be dumb, Night. Go to the doctor—maybe you really hurt something.”

  Midnight rolled her eyes at him. “I’ve already been dumb,” she said, grimacing as she sat back against the pillows. “How d’ya think I got this way?”

  After a few more minutes, Griff stood up. “Come on, I’m taking you to the hospital.”

  After a little bit of arguing, Midnight finally agreed. Griff drove her to Kaiser Hospital and walked her into the urgent care unit. They explained to the triage nurse what had happened, and Midnight was sent for X-rays. Fortunately, since it was a week night, the urgent care unit was not very busy—but they still waited for an hour before they were seen.

  The doctor looked at Midnight’s shoulder, touching it gingerly. All the while, she stared straight ahead, clenching her teeth and holding Griff’s hand with her other hand, flinching only when the doctor tested the range of movement in her arm.

  “Well,” the doctor said finally, concluding his examination and checking the X-rays, “there is a hairline fracture to your scapula and some serious bruising to the muscle tissue.”

  Midnight nodded, feeling a little sick from the pain resulting from the doctor’s examination.

  “I’m going to give you a couple of prescriptions, one for the pain and the other to assist with the inflammation. I would suggest, young lady, that next time, you consider using some padding between you and the butt of the rifle.” He wagged a finger at her.

  Midnight grinned wanly. “Now you tell me,” she muttered.

  Griff drove her back to the hotel. By the time they got there, Midnight had decided she wanted to go home. Griff tried to talk her out of it, wanting her to at least get a good night’s sleep first—it was already 7:00 p.m. “You’ll be lucky to get home by eleven tonight,” he said, but Midnight was already shaking her head.