by Pat Warren
Lou shook rain off his hair, then glanced over his shoulder, his eyes searching the eerily quiet street. “He might be waiting for an accomplice. I wish we had some protective gear so we could rush him. But damn, he could put a hole right through us.” Jorge had fired two shots at them when they’d first entered the alley, fortunately missing both of them. “I don’t think he’s an expert with guns, but he could get lucky.”
“We’re not taking that chance. Where in hell’s the backup we radioed for?”
As if in answer, they heard a siren coming closer.
Nick frowned. “They had to show off and make a lot of noise, spooking Jorge even more.”
Minutes later, two older officers got out. Lou went to meet them while Nick kept guard, explaining the situation and grabbing the gear. He put on a bullet-proof vest and hurried back to Nick, handing him the other one. The two officers stood guard at the mouth of the alley, guns drawn, watching the street for any unwelcome visitors.
Nick finished fastening the vest and came to a decision. “We can’t stay here all day. I’m going down there, see if I can talk him in. I got to him once before.”
“The hell you did. He jumped, remember? Would’ve killed his baby if you hadn’t grabbed her.”
“This is different. I think he’s just scared. You notice he hasn’t fired any more shots? Maybe his gun’s jammed or he’s out of ammo.”
“Yeah, and it could be it has a forty-shot clip. That vest can’t protect all of you. He can still take you out, one shot to the head. Don’t be stupid.” Lou’s voice was low, annoyed. “Let’s wait him out. He has to make a move soon.”
He was no hero, but Nick also knew that if Jorge showed himself now, he’d die. Maybe he could prevent that. Nick stood. “I’m going. You guys keep me covered.”
Slowly, his gun in his right hand down at his side, he started down the alley. Rain fell on him, but he couldn’t get any wetter than he was. He blinked, trying to keep his vision clear. “Jorge, it’s me. Nick Bennett. You remember, I was on the ledge with you? I’m not going to shoot. Come out and talk to me.”
The voice came from behind a large, soggy cardboard box, that Nick could barely make out in the dark alley. “Don’t give me that crap. I’m done for and you know it. Only if you guys don’t back off, I’m going to take all of you with me.”
“You got twenty-five to life hovering over you for killing Rocio. You do this and it’s the gas chamber for sure. Is that what you want?”
“What I want is to go home, my mother’s place in Hermosillo. I won’t bother nobody ever again, man. Just let me go there.” His voice quivered with nerves, emotion, fear.
“Can’t do that, Jorge. But I’ll put in a good word for you at your trial. Worst thing you can do is kill a cop, Jorge. They’ll hunt you down like a dog. Is that how you want to be remembered by your son?”
Nick heard shuffling sounds again, as if the man had stood up, but it was too dark and the rain too heavy for him to be sure. He gripped his .38 tighter, ready to squeeze off a shot if it came to that. “What do you say, Jorge?”
“I say, get the hell out of my way.” Gun blazing, Jorge came running at Nick.
Nick felt the thud of a bullet hitting his vest, but the vest held. He raised his arm to shoot, but a shot from behind him slammed into Jorge’s chest and felled the big man. Managing to get off one more shot that went wild, Jorge lay in a crumpled heap, the blood on his shirt mingling with the rain.
Standing over him with his weapon still drawn, Nick saw there was no need. The bullet had ripped into Jorge’s heart. As Lou came over, Nick looked up. “Thanks, buddy. I owe you.”
Lou signaled to the two officers. “Call the meat wagon.”
“What a waste,” Nick commented. “Once upon a time, he had a nice wife, two little kids and a good job. What makes a guy go crazy like that?”
“Stalkers are a breed apart,” Lou said, holstering his weapon. “They get to feeling that if the woman won’t do what he wants, she deserves to die. Or they feel that if they can’t have the victim, then no one else will have her, either. Then they’re still unhappy and usually either kill themselves or let a cop do it for them.”
Nick’s thoughts flew to Adam Weston, a man who seemingly had everything, yet was willing to risk losing it all by stalking his son and the boy’s mother.
“The pitiful part is that they never give up until one or both of them are dead,” Lou commented.
Experience with stalkers bore out Lou’s observation, Nick knew. He ran a hand over his face, swiping off the rain while a cold chill that had nothing to do with the weather raced up his spine. They never give up until one or both are dead.
Something had to be done about Weston before Tate got hurt. Nick hoped she’d listen to him. After the way they’d parted this morning, he wasn’t sure.
He shouldn’t have pushed her, talking about marriage and adopting Josh. She was too upset over Adam to think about a future. He’d make it up to her, explain himself.
“I’ve got to get back to the station,” Nick said, leaving the alley. He turned to the uniform just pocketing his radio. “You two wait for the wagon and file your report.”
“You got it,” the cop answered.
Climbing into Lou’s passenger seat, Nick shoved his hands through his drenched hair. “Make it a rush, will you? I’ve got some calls to make.”
Maybe it was time to put in an APB on Rafe Collins, do a little squeezing, Nick thought, entering the precinct. Put the fear of God in Weston by arresting his number-one man who just might be persuaded to talk, to expose him and his tactics to the press.
There was one message in his box when he checked in. Call Maggie. Important.
He needed to go to his locker and change out of his clothes, soaking wet down to his underwear. But first things first. He dialed Maggie’s house. She answered on the first ring. “Maggie, it’s Nick. Something wrong?”
“You might say that.” Maggie told him all of it, starting with the article in the newspaper about the senator and his wife purchasing a house as part of their plans to adopt a young boy, how that news had frightened Tate. Then the phone call, all she’d overheard and all that Tate had told her Adam had said. She ended by saying that Tate had left for a walk just before it began raining.
“She’s been gone for two hours, Nick. I know it’s warm out, but she could still catch her death of cold getting soaking wet. I don’t like this, not one bit.”
Nick didn’t like it, either. “She didn’t mention heading somewhere specific, maybe stopping in to see someone?”
“No, just said she needed to think things through. I know she must have really upset Adam by hanging up on him that way.” Nerves had Maggie sniffling. “Do you really think that awful man can get Josh by forcing Tate to sign some paper?”
“I can’t imagine she’d sign, not for any amount of money.” But what if he had Rafe kidnap her and hold her hostage until she signed. Powerful men had their ways, as did ruthless ones. “You say she left on foot? Is her car still there?”
“Yes, on foot. And her car’s in my driveway.”
“All right, Maggie. I’ll find her. Don’t worry.”
“Oh, thank you, Nick. She didn’t want me to phone you, but I just had to, you know.”
“I know. You did the right thing. I’ll check with you later.” Nick hung up, his expression thoughtful.
Lou walked over, having changed into dry pants and shirt, his damp, sparse hair plastered to his head. “Well, I feel better.”
“Lou, Tate’s been out in this weather walking for hours. I need to go find her. Can you write up our report? I’ll be back later to add my comments backing up your version.”
“Sure, sure. Go find her.”
Nick hurried off to his locker.
He was feeling enormously frustrated.
Nick had gone to Maggie’s, checked with her to make sure Tate hadn’t returned in the meantime, then driven the neighborhood streets, block by long bloc
k. He’d circled around the university campus area slowly, stopping to stare at the few stragglers out on such a wet day. No one looked remotely familiar.
Maggie had told him Tate had been wearing her work attire, black linen slacks and white blouse. Not even a jacket. He cruised a nearby shopping center, went in to a coffee shop, stopped by two fast-food places, thinking she might have gone in for a hot cup of coffee or simply to get out of the rain. No luck.
Next he’d called Brennan’s, wondering if she might have caught a ride to work after all. But Dave Anderson said they hadn’t seen or heard from her since her early-morning call saying she was taking a personal day. Beginning to get worried by the third hour, Nick called Maggie on his car phone, but she still hadn’t heard, either. Fear had him phoning the precinct for reported accidents in the area but, thank goodness, there were none. As an afterthought, he called the closest hospital, and gratefully learned she wasn’t there.
Stymied, he stopped the car and sat there, trying to figure out where Tate might have gone. Nick felt he knew her quite well. She was an extremely fair person and felt that it wasn’t fair to tie him down to a woman with so many problems. That isn’t at all how he felt, but he knew Tate did.
With no one else on earth had he ever felt such a close bond, almost as if he could see into her mind at times. Sitting in his car while the rain beat on the roof of his Taurus, he closed his eyes and tried to concentrate. Where would she have walked off to?
Long minutes later, he could come up with no viable answer. She wouldn’t just walk away, leaving everyone behind and everything, including her purse, her keys. They hadn’t parted on the best of terms earlier, but he knew she wouldn’t deliberately worry Maggie, knowing how fragile her landlady was. Had she met with foul play? his policeman’s mind wondered. Had that bastard Weston had her under surveillance and, after she’d hung up on him rejecting what he’d called his final offer, had he become furious and had her picked up by that burly aide?
Why hadn’t he insisted she carry her gun with her at all times? Nick berated himself. He should have gotten her a cell phone, made sure she kept it with her. But, by leaving her purse and everything in it behind, he had the feeling she’d only intended to walk around, think things through, then go back to Maggie’s. Only the skies had opened up and maybe she’d been forced to take shelter. Only where?
Again, he dialed Maggie and asked if Tate had any friends in the neighborhood, anyone she might have stopped to visit? Maggie said no. He hung up, feeling drained.
It was too soon to call in a missing persons report. A fine cop he was, couldn’t find the one person who meant the world to him. Feeling anxious, dejected and disheartened, he headed home. He hadn’t had a real meal in over twenty-four hours. Maybe if he made himself something to eat, he could think more clearly.
Nick turned onto the dirt road leading to his mobile home carefully, aware that rain made the path muddy and slippery. Cautiously he maneuvered the Taurus and was almost in the carport when he saw her. Instinctively braking, he noticed that she was sitting against the trailer wall on a rickety old folding chair he’d meant to throw out. Her legs drawn up close to her body, her arms wrapped around them, her head resting on her knees. When she saw his headlights, she looked up.
He shoved it in Park and stepped out, struggling between relief and fright. Acting on first impulse, he pulled her into his arms and held on. “Thank God you’re all right,” he whispered.
She didn’t say a word, just wound her arms around him and lay her head on his chest, her teeth chattering. Her heart thumped erratically against his, revealing nerves. The roof of the lean-to carport was tin and the rain pounding on it sounded like little drummers playing off tune.
“Let’s get you inside and dry you off,” he said, leading her to his door, helping her in. She was shivering as he walked her to the small bathroom, turned on the shower and waited for the hot steam. She was already sliding off her cold, wet things. “Take your time,” he told her as she stepped in. He could see the goose bumps on her skin. He drew the curtain and made sure there was a big clean towel for her before leaving the bathroom.
By the time he called Maggie to let her know Tate was with him and she was okay, he heard the shower turn off. Nick put on a pot of coffee, then went into the hallway and knocked on the bathroom door. “You okay?”
She opened the door, letting out the steam. She was wearing his blue terry-cloth robe that had been hanging on the back of the door, and she was towel-drying her hair. Her green eyes huge in her pale face, she nodded as she padded past him barefoot into the small kitchen and sat down at the table for two.
Nick poured them both coffee, thinking the last thing he needed was more caffeine, but he felt she should drink something hot and he didn’t have any tea bags. He placed the mugs on the table and sat down opposite her. And waited.
Tate encircled the mug with both hands, her head down, staring into the hot brew. This wasn’t going to be easy, but she knew she had to say it. Finally she looked up into those fathomless gray eyes watching her. “I owe you an apology.”
Of all things he’d thought she might say, that hadn’t been even on the long list. “Why…”
She held up a hand, stopping him. “Let me say this, get it all out, okay? It’s kind of a long story.” She drew in a deep breath for courage. “As I told you, my mother was gone by the time I was eight and my brother was six. Dad sat me down and told me I’d have to be the one to hold the family together while he worked. I was awfully young for that kind of responsibility, but there was no one else. I had no other choice, so I did as he asked.”
Tate raised the mug and took a sip before continuing. “I learned to cook, to run the washer and dryer, to clean the house and even to iron. And I took care of Steve. Dad helped, but he worked long hours. Later, I found out that my mother had cleaned out their savings account so he had to start all over. Anyhow, my point is, I learned to be responsible and independent and ask for no help from anyone at an early age. I…I think that trait stayed with me to this day. I hate asking for help.
“For example, in high school, I was doing poorly in algebra and the teacher wanted to assign an all-A student to tutor me. I refused. Instead I stayed up late every night and often got up early. I studied and crammed and worked until I left that class with an A. And I did it without help.”
She sighed, her eyes downcast. “Looking back, I know that I was foolishly stubborn, and for no particular reason except pride, I guess. I was proud that I could do so many things without help from anyone. My father praised me constantly and I ate it up. But it established a pattern inside me so that I have difficulty accepting help even when I badly need it.”
Nick had already guessed some of this, but he let her tell it in her own way, wondering where she was going with it.
“When I was pregnant with Josh and Adam had nicely sashayed out of my life, I still had a year of college to finish. So I broke down for the first time and accepted help from Maggie and my two roommates. But even then, they offered. I didn’t ask. Too damn stubborn for my own good, although I probably would have asked in time, for my baby’s sake.”
She set aside the mug and looked out the window. The skies were gray and gloomy, the rain still coming down. Tate wished it would end, that the sun would come out. She hurried on to finish.
“I was determined to get a job and support Josh and myself, asking help from no one. Maggie baby-sat him, but I paid her right from the start. Room and board, too. Sure, men asked me out, quite a few, but I had no trouble blowing them off. I was so certain they wanted only fun and games, not a woman with a child. Later, when Adam started harassing us, I still tried desperately to handle it alone. Both Molly and Laura offered to help, but I turned them down. Adam was my problem and I’d manage somehow. I was so sure I could do this alone.”
Turning her head, she looked at Nick. He hadn’t said a word and even now, didn’t look judgmental or impatient or angry. She’d walked for hours, ignoring
the rain, trying to see where she’d gone wrong and how she might fix things. Finally she’d come to the conclusion that she’d been wrong to turn on him, to push him away. Perhaps he’d been a bit premature talking about marriage and the house, but his heart was in the right place. He cared about her and Josh and was unafraid to show it. In turn, she’d given him nothing but grief. She had to let him know how sorry she was and hope that he still wanted her.
“Then you came along.” She allowed herself a small smile as she gazed at his wonderful face. “You were gentle and gentlemanly, a lethal combination in my book. For the very first time in my life, I fell in love.” Tate saw his eyes grow warm as he placed a hand over hers.
“As you know, I wouldn’t admit it, not even to myself. You offered help, but I turned you down repeatedly. See, to me, needing help meant I’d be weak and I needed to see myself as strong, so I could take care of Josh. I refused to believe, even after we made love so beautifully, that you cared for me, the woman. I’m not sure why, maybe because no other man had ever bothered to look beyond my face and body. You wouldn’t even kiss me until I all but begged you to, and still I denied my feelings.”
“Yeah, you’re a little stubborn,” Nick said, his first comment.
“A lot stubborn. When you showed me your house this morning and drew a mental picture of how life with you could be for me and my son, I found myself wanting to move in that moment. But I told myself all that was a dream and not reality. Reality was that I had a son a madman was trying to take from me and it was up to me to stop him. You asked me to trust you and I said I did, but only a little. You see, from my viewpoint, nothing had changed, except for the worse. Josh was away from me, Rafe was stalking us and Adam called with what he said was his final offer.”
She told him about her phone conversation with Adam and his ultimatum, about being more truly frightened than she’d ever been in her life and about walking for hours trying to come up with a plan of action.
“So did you come up with a plan?”