Brooklyn Bounce (Alex Taylor Book 3)

by Andrew G. Nelson

  “You really should be more careful,” she said dryly, as the coughing fit subsided. “I never got the hang of that whole Heimlich maneuver thingy.”

  “Is there ever a time when you aren’t irreverent?”

  “Church?” she replied. “Which is probably why I avoid going there.”

  “Maybe you should consider starting.”

  “My hypocrisy only goes so far,” Alex replied, in her best Doc Holliday impersonation.

  “On a more serious note, is this going to cause problems for you?”

  “Only if you get elected,” she replied. “Sheldon’s smart and he has his people securely positioned on the public safety and finance committees. At best you’d only succeed in removing one of them, so he could always screw with me if he wanted to prove a point or just to try and keep you in line. On the flipside you could screw him over in other areas, so he’ll probably just play nice till he can hatch a plan.”

  “If you don’t want me to do, just say so.”

  “Don’t be silly, Peter,” Alex scoffed. “I’d love to watch Sheldon get his comeuppance. I just don’t want you to take it lightly. If you run, you had better win.”

  “I will,” he said with a wink.

  “So when do you have to put your name in?”

  “Open filing runs through the end of the month.”

  “Nothing like waiting until the last moment, huh?”

  “Well, my fear was that it would give Sheldon a chance to find someone to run against me. I thought I could lessen that chance by waiting till the very last moment to file.”

  “That’s actually pretty smart.”

  “How’d you like to be my campaign manager?”

  “I thought you said you wanted to win?”

  “That’s true, how about just an office staffer?”

  “Why, do you want to sexually harass me?”

  “Maybe,” Peter said with a smile.

  “Take me home and I can give you a sample of my dictation skills.”

  “I’d love to, but I have a meeting scheduled with Conrad tonight.”

  “Wow, I never thought I’d fall so far in my life that my sexual advances would be rejected for an older man,” she replied.

  “Sorry,” Peter said with a laugh. “I’ve made the choice to enter the political arena so it’s all about the Benjamin’s right now.”

  “Yeah, well remember that the next time you come knocking on my door,” she said. “You’d better have something larger than a stack of singles in your wallet to throw at me.”

  “Hey, how about I pick you up in the morning and take you to church. Then we can head over to my place and you can impress me with those dictation skills.”

  “Sorry, I have plans tomorrow,” Alex said with a feigned pouty expression.

  “All day?”

  “I’m afraid so,” she replied. “Too bad, so sad. Lesson number one: Politics is all about making hard choices, dear.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  Alex extended her hand out, grabbing hold of a small oak tree and pulled herself up the rocky incline. She’d hit the crest of the small ridgeline and was now looking down into the valley below; the swollen waters of the Birney River cutting a path through the countryside.

  She paused for a moment, taking in a deep breath, as she enjoyed the unspoiled scenery displayed in front of her.

  “They don’t have views like this in Brooklyn North,” she said in almost a whisper, as if in some way her spoken words would disrupt the tranquility of the forest.

  It was springtime in northern New Hampshire and the forest around her seemed to be alive with the sound of birds chirping, wind rustling through the countless trees and the rushing water below. It all combined to fill the air with a cacophony of nature which rivaled the urban bedlam that she had long grown immune to.

  Alex dropped her backpack onto the ground next to her and leaned back against a tree, surveying the land in front of her as she plotted her next course. She carefully noted the best areas that would allow her to descend into the valley below.

  She had lost track of just how long she had been walking, but it had been several hours. She glanced up at the sky, trying to judge the approximate time by the position of the sun.

  You should have spent more time paying attention in school, she thought, as she estimated that it was just about half-past-fuck-if-she-knew.

  She decided that she probably needed to head lower, toward the river, a bit quicker, so that she could find a nice flat area to camp for the evening. The last thing she wanted to do was get down there and it be too dark to set up her tent. She picked up the pack, slinging it back over her shoulders, and began to make the journey down the mountainside.

  This section of the forest was particularly rocky and made for a rather slow decent. With each footfall she felt the loose stones shift and give way, causing her to tread lightly, as she weaved in and out of nearby trees. Even on the most brutal days in the gym, when Abby Simpson rode her ass like the trainer from hell, nothing made her thighs and calves burn worse than traversing these hills. By the time she had made her way to the river’s edge she was physically exhausted.

  The sound of the rushing water was particularly intense now. Heavy rains, caused by the melting snows, had caused the Birney to swell beyond the outer edges of its banks. She watched as the racing water broke in places, causing white caps to appear. It was a kayaker’s dream, but she also knew that one false move would likely mean certain death for anyone unlucky enough to be caught up in the cold, swift moving currents.

  She found a grassy section, not too far from the water’s edge, and sat down to rest. She removed the backpack and began rummaging inside for one of the protein bars she had packed away. After that trek she needed a quick boost before she began setting up her camp for the night and gathering the wood she would need for her fire. The crunchy mix of granola, nuts and dried berries was just the thing she needed.

  As she ate the bar, she took a moment to reflect upon how she had gotten here. This coming July would mark her two year anniversary since taking over as police chief. It was a far cry from being a sergeant on the mean streets of New York City, but she was finally acclimating herself to her new home. It was her shot at redemption, a place where she could overcome the demons of her past that had plagued her career in the city. Maybe one day she would get her chance to return back there, like a triumphant Roman general, decked out in a toga picata, celebrating his victories abroad.

  Yeah, that would go over like a lead balloon with some, she mused.

  Of course, that didn’t necessarily mean that all of the residents of the picture-postcard town of Penobscot, located in the northern region of New Hampshire, were as smitten with her.

  In terms of crime, Penobscot was light years away from NYC, but since her arrival they had experienced what she dutifully described as a slight uptick in crime. Which of course was a quaint way of saying the murder rate had skyrocketed under her stewardship; not that it was her fault. Well, except for one, but Alex was quick to point out that the folks behind those heinous acts had been lifelong residents who predated her arrival.

  Still, the jury was out on the often brash, fiery-tempered cop who didn’t play by the rules.

  That wasn’t completely true, she corrected herself, as she took another bite of the bar. Her cops liked her and in the end that was all that really mattered to her.

  She suddenly began to feel very tired and realized that sitting down had been a stupid move. She should have just gotten the camp ready instead of taking a break. She reached into the backpack and removed the plastic water bottle from inside.

  “Fuck me,” she said, as she stared at the empty container.

  Grudgingly, she got to her feet and made her way over toward the water’s edge. She knelt down and cautiously dipped the water bottle into the fast moving waters; watching as it filled up rapidly. She made a mental note to remember to refill it before it got too dark. The last thing she wanted to do was stumble
around in pitch blackness to get a drink.

  As she capped the bottle, she noticed something fluttering just beneath the surface. She squinted, as she tried to figure out what it was. It was difficult to make out, but it looked to be bright red, with black striping. At first glance it looked like one of those tropical fish you see in aquariums, the brightly colored ones, but the water was too cold for that.

  Was it a fishing lure? she wondered.

  Alex set the bottle on the grass behind her and leaned forward to retrieve whatever it was. She gasped, a chill coursing through her body, as her hand pierced the surface. Despite appearing close, the item seemed just out of reach as her fingers wiggled, trying to draw it closer. Suddenly, she felt something lock onto her wrist.

  “Jesus Christ,” she exclaimed, as her body suddenly lurched forward

  She dug her free hand into the muddy bank for support, feeling her fingers slip into the dark brown ooze, as she struggled and fought to keep from being sucked into the water. She felt her hand hit something hard in the mud, which gave her some momentary leverage.

  Alex tried tugging free, but it was useless. It was as if her hand was locked in a vice. She thought about screaming, but there was no point. This particular section of the river was about as remote as you could get. Even if someone just happened to be nearby, the roar of the rushing water would be too loud for anyone to hear.

  Her immediate thought was that a catfish had grabbed her hand and she actually laughed at the idea. The thought that the badass ghetto cop known as La Diabla Rubia, the blond devil, survivor of multiple gun battles, was going to be done in by a fucking fish struck her as wholly absurd.

  She tugged backward, struggling valiantly, and finally felt some give.

  “Not today bitch,” she exclaimed, as she continued to draw her hand free.

  Then, without warning, Alex felt her body unexpectedly lunge forward, as if she had been pushed from behind. In an instant she was plunged into the icy clutches of the Birney, her body completely submerged. She thrashed about, as she felt herself being pulled down into the freezing waters. Her eyes went wide with terror, as she scanned the dark abyss for the source of the attack. The suddenness of being dragged beneath the water was like being hit with a bat and she couldn’t help but gasp, releasing precious air from her lungs.

  She was aware that consciousness was slowly slipping from her grasp. As her vision began to darken, she saw a faint image approaching, like a specter emerging from the depths.

  Alex blinked and when her eyes opened again she saw the ashen face of Cory Childers in front of her wearing the familiar bright red and black striped flannel shirt.

  Then the young boy smiled at her and pulled her into the darkness.

  Alex let out a scream and bolted upright in her bed. Her body was drenched in sweat and she could feel her heart beating in her chest like a jack hammer. It took a moment for her to acclimate herself to the fact that she was in her bedroom and that it had only been another bad dream.

  “Sonofafuckingbitch,” she exclaimed, as she rubbed at her face.

  She rolled her legs over the side of the bed and sat on the edge, as her heart rate began to subside. She reached over and turned on the lamp, then grabbed the pack of cigarettes off the nightstand. She tapped one out of the pack and lit it, taking a long drag, as she began to calm down. It was always the same ritual.

  The nightmare had been a reoccurring visitor since she had first discovered Cory’s body in the river six months ago. She had tried everything from alcohol to over-the-counter sleeping pills, but nothing could dislodge the images from her head. She’d even flirted briefly with the idea of asking Peter to prescribe something stronger for her, but she didn’t want to open that can of worms with him. She knew what he would say, that she needed to see a professional, and she knew that he was probably right, but that didn’t mean it was ever going to happen anytime soon. Civilians just couldn’t seem to grasp the mental shit that went along with this job and the last thing she needed was some witchdoctor claiming she was unfit for duty.

  Alex gazed out her bedroom window, watching as the blackness of the night sky began to lighten in the east. Soon she would see the first rays of light break over the horizon.

  She laid back in bed and stared up at the ceiling, blowing smoke rings up toward the white-washed wood rafters.

  Somethings got to give, she thought.

  After a few minutes, she glanced over at the alarm clock and then crushed the cigarette out in the ashtray. There was no point in trying to go back to sleep and she didn’t want to run the risk of the dream repeating itself. The only thing she knew was that she needed to find a way to make it go away before it drove her crazy

  She got out of bed and headed out to the kitchen, to turn the coffee maker on, before grudgingly heading off to the shower.

  CHAPTER THREE

  “Morning, boss,” Abby said, looking up from her computer keyboard, as Alex walked into the police station. “You’re in early.”

  “Mmmm,” Alex replied, tossing a Dunkin’ Donut’s bag onto the woman’s desk, before heading into her office.

  “I hate you,” Abby said, as she peered inside the bag at the frosted chocolate donut inside. “Why did you bring me this?”

  “Because you’re mean to me at the gym,” Alex said, removing her jacket and hanging it up on the coat rack. “Besides, you’re a big girl and no one’s twisting your arm.”

  “But its chocolate,” Abby replied sadly, reaching into the bag and withdrawing the donut. “It’s my kryptonite and you know it.”

  “What can I say, I’m a bitch.”

  “Ooh, did someone have a rough night?”

  “Rough night, rough morning,” Alex replied.

  “Again?”

  “Right now it’s about the only consistent thing in my life.”

  “Oh, boo-hoo,” Abby said, before stuffing the donut in her mouth.

  She got up from her desk, grabbing her coffee cup in one hand and a stack of reports with the other, then she made her way into Alex’s office. She deposited the reports onto the desk and then took a seat.

  “Love letters?” Alex asked, as she sat down behind her desk and removed the plastic lid off her own coffee cup.

  “More like hate mail,” Abby said. “One of our aspiring young talents got ahold of a spray paint can and went all gangsta over on the north end of town. They tagged the high school and a couple of garages. Needless to say some of the residents aren’t their usual little rays of sunshine this morning”

  “Awesome, that should make the next town council meeting a glorious event,” Alex replied sarcastically, as she opened a pack of cigarettes and removed one. “Perhaps this time they’ll ask for my head on a pike at the city limits.”

  “At least they didn’t tag any houses or cars, Abby replied.

  “Yet,” Alex said, as she lit the cigarette and took a drag. “Reach out to the shops that carry spray paint and give them a warning as to what is going on. Ask them to let us know if any of the local hooligans try to buy spray paint.”

  “Will do.”

  “So do you have any good news hiding in that stack of papers?”

  “Nope, just the usual statistical heartache and misery for your early morning reading enjoyment.”

  “Outfuckingstanding,” Alex replied.

  “So what are you planning to do about your nightmares?”

  “I’m considering becoming an insomniac,” Alex said. “I’ll be exhausted, but I’ll be able to get a lot more done.”

  “I don’t recommend it,” Abby replied, reaching over and grabbing the pack of cigarettes off the desk. “I went through a bad time a few years back, right before a big meet. I over-analyzed everything, training, eating, you name it. Bottom line was that I would lay in bed for hours every night, unable to turn off my brain. By the time the competition came around, I was a walking basket case. I ended up placing twenty-fourth out of twenty-five. The only reason I didn’t come in last was beca
use that other woman suffered an injury three weeks prior and couldn’t work out.”

  Alex leaned back in the chair and rubbed at her weary eyes. She knew Abby was right. Police work was a hard enough job to stomach at times without adding any other shit onto the plate.

  “So what did you do?”

  “I went to this holistic hippie chick, outside Franconia, that a girlfriend recommended” Abby replied. “Actually, I think she was a mental health counselor, but she was that really earthy type. You know the beads, sandals and patchouli oil crap.”

  “Did it help?” Alex asked.

  “I guess. She gave me this CD that I was supposed to meditate to. Allegedly it would be put me in a relaxed state and allow me to work through my issues, but I never actually made it through because I kept falling asleep. I think by that time I was just so physically exhausted I could have slept standing up.”

  “Falling asleep isn’t my problem,” Alex said, taking a sip of coffee. “It’s what comes after.”

  “I think you’re going to need to see a real doctor for that.”

  “Like I don’t have enough shit to do,” Alex replied. “By the way, when did doctors stop making house calls?”

  “Doesn’t Dr. Hunk still make house calls to your place?” Abby said with a mischievous grin.

  “Peter is the last person I’m going to talk to about this,” Alex replied. “He means well, but the next thing I know I’ll be a test subject hooked up to machines trying to read my mind and that would be a very scary thing. I’d end up being committed within the first twenty-four hours.”

  “No argument here,” Abby said. “I’ll see if I can dig out that hippie chick’s number for you. Speaking of men, have you heard from your old partner?”

  “Yeah,….”

  “And?”

  “And what?”

  “Don’t give me that, you know what I mean, have you guys talked about what happened?”

  “No,” Alex replied. “There’s no point. We’re like two ships in the night, heading in opposite directions, on different oceans.”