by J. M. Madden
“It’s tied to one of the first cases I was assigned to when I made detective. Her boyfriend was killed and she was beaten nearly to death. Pull the case file and bring it all back here. Judging by the wording on the two notes I’d bet my life this is tied to that crime. If we figure out who was involved then we’ll find out who’s after her now.”
“Didn’t she know we’d find the file when we looked into it? My next move was to run a background check on her. Obviously that would come up.” Charger settled into the chair he had sat in for years and kicked his legs up onto the coffee table the way he always did.
“She changed her name. Her real name is Alexandria Conway. That’s where we need to start.”
“You’re sure it’s the same girl?” Charger asked, swigging more of his beer. “We’re talking about ten years ago.”
“You remember your first case? I thought I was going to be some kind of hero. I stared at that file day and night for months until I got pulled onto another case. I’m not saying I can recall every detail, but I can see that face, her face, very clearly on the inside of that file. It’s her. Demi is Alexandria.” Roark began looking over the papers that Charger had given him and already his mind was cataloging what he saw.
“I’ll pull everything I can on the old case and you go over what we have from the last couple weeks. We need to keep this quiet. I’m about the only guy at the precinct that still likes you.” Charger hopped to his feet, fished his keys out, and finished off his beer.
“You still like me?” Roark asked, with a mischievous smile.
“I’ll never admit it to anyone else,” Charger laughed. “I’ve known you for eight years, Roark and I’ve learned more about you in the last ten minutes than all the time leading up to it. You should try being human more often, then more people would give you a chance.”
“I don’t want a chance from more people, I just want a couple second chances from the people that matter.”
NINE
Roark burst through the double doors of the hospital and blew past the front desk. Fear was oozing out of his pores as he barreled down the hallway toward the emergency wing. Olivera stood looking ghost white and harried as Roark nearly slammed into him.
“Is he alive?” was all Roark could muster as the agony of the situation threatened to close his throat completely.
“They just took him into surgery. He lost a lot of blood on the scene.” Olivera swallowed hard as though he were about to vomit.
“What the hell happened? He was just at my place.” Roark balled his hands into fists and considered going ballistic on the nearest wall.
“It was an ambush. Charger was stopped at a light and they pulled up next to him and lit the car up. Automatic weapons. It’s miraculous he only got hit four times. He threw the car in gear and did his best to dodge the attack.” Olivera shook his head, his face washing over with disbelief.
“Where is Demi?” Roark asked, knowing that he could do nothing to help Charger pull through. He had to turn his attention to something he could control. Finding the people who did this. And Demi was the key to accomplishing that.
“She’s in protective custody. She’s been moved to a safe house. You know I can’t tell you where.” Olivera looked down at his phone that was chirping like crazy.
“You still think I did this?” Roark challenged as he grabbed the collar of Olivera’s shirt and jerked him forward. “You can hate me all you want but you look me in the eye and tell me if you think I had anything to do with this. I want to hear you say it.”
“Get your hands off me,” Olivera shouted, shoving Roark backwards.
“Break it up,” Captain McCoy ordered as he pulled the two men away from each other. He was a toweringly tall black man with coal colored eyes that could rattle even the most hardened criminal. Roark had worked for several captains during his time on the force, but none was as formidable as McCoy. He demanded, and frankly deserved, respect. He never asked any of his people to do anything he wasn’t willing to do himself. When push had come to shove and Roark went off the rails, McCoy had saved his ass. There were few men who would keep him from pummeling Olivera right now, and McCoy was one.
“Get this lunatic out of here,” Olivera demanded, glaring angrily at Roark. “He’s trying to muscle his way onto this case but he keeps forgetting he’s not a cop. He’s a glorified bodyguard who can’t even seem to keep a job.”
“Make any progress on this case, Olivera?” Roark asked condescendingly. “Or are you waiting for more cops to get shot while you chase dead leads.”
“You two done?” McCoy demanded, boring down on both of them with the penetrating stare. “I get it, your friend’s been ambushed and you want answers, but you’re not going to get them by attacking each other. Roark, I heard Charger had just left your place. Does this mean you two are on speaking terms again?”
Roark hesitated, letting his last conversation with Charger run through his mind. “He came to tell me I had been cleared because I was at the precinct at the time Demi’s apartment was tossed. We were going to work the case together. We worked some stuff out between us.”
“Good,” McCoy said, patting Roark on the shoulder. “That kid idolizes you. It ripped his guts out to have to cut you off. I’m glad you guys made some kind of amends. Now what do you know about the case?”
“With all due respect,” Olivera cut in, stepping forward and flailing his arms. “Roark is not a cop. If he knows anything about this case, and I believe he does, then he can make a statement down at the precinct and then be on his way. I’ve got this under control.”
“This isn’t a pissing match,” McCoy scolded. “I’ve got a cop fighting for his life and a reliable resource with a proven history of effectiveness willing to help. You don’t have to like him, but I’d expect anything that could bring these attempted cop killers to justice would be worth trying. Or should I find a different detective to work the case?”
“I swear, sometimes I’m the only one who remembers the absolute shit storm this guy stirs up,” Olivera grumbled.
“We all remember, trust me,” McCoy asserted, giving a sideways glance at Roark that let him know not everything had been forgiven. “But it’s impossible to ignore his ability to cut through bullshit and bring people to justice.”
“Justice,” Olivera scoffed. “His own version of it maybe. Are you telling me I’m supposed to treat him like he’s a cop again or something?”
“This isn’t the wild west, Olivera,” McCoy corrected. “I’m not going to deputize him and hand him a service weapon and a squad car. But I expect you to treat him like a high level consultant. He will have access to all information on related files and the ability to sit in on any interrogations. Keep him up-to-date on any leads. You still have your license to carry, I’d imagine?” McCoy asked Roark with a raised brow.
“One more thing that he should have been stripped of,” Olivera interjected, getting one last jab in.
Roark nodded and patted his side where his revolver hung strapped to his belt. “I appreciate this, Captain. We’re going to catch these guys. Will you keep me posted on Charger? Let me know how surgery went.”
McCoy nodded and they exchanged a firm handshake as the Captain moved toward the nurse’s station for an update.
“I can help here,” Roark explained, trying to level his temper, not an easy task when dealing with Olivera.
“Nobody needs your help. They have you on this pedestal around here like you’re some superhero detective. If we all blatantly disregarded the law the way you did we could get a hell of a lot more done. But that’s not our job.”
“Fine,” Roark said, raising his hands in effort to keep the peace. “You’re right. I should probably be in jail for half the things I did. I’ll never have a badge again. I’ll never officially work another case. To me that’s worse than sitting in prison. You might not see me as being punished, but I’ve lost plenty. I’m just trying to make sure I don’t lose any more. You take the lead
, just let me do my part.”
“Bullshit,” Olivera sneered. “I’m not some beat cop hearing the stories about the incredible Roark Miller. I know you. You are incapable of taking second seat on this. You’ll be pumping me for information and using me for resources and then doing whatever the hell you want.”
Roark let out a grumbling laugh. “You’re right,” he conceded. “Maybe you’re a better detective than I gave you credit for. But I have information you need. Information, for some reason, Demi doesn’t want to give you. You need me. Charger was gunned down just for digging into this. There’s a good chance you’re next.”
“I can take care of myself. Go back to guarding tweens with bad attitudes.” Olivera looked down at the screen of his phone again as it kept chirping with messages.
“I have no doubt you can keep that fat ass of yours safe but what about your sister and her kids? Charger, he’s like me, he doesn’t have anyone. But you’ve got your mom, Edith, on the East side too. The longer this case goes the more vulnerable they’ll be. I’m sure you already thought of that. I bet the kids have been pulled out of school. I’m sure they’ve all been moved to safe houses. But how long they have to stay there, the length of time their lives are disrupted, is up to you. Let me do what I’m good at.” Roark saw the way Olivera’s face flinched at the sound of his mother’s name. He knew that he’d pierced the man’s armor and now he just had to see how bad the wound was. Was it enough to get Olivera to stop being a dick long enough to get something done?
“I’m not taking orders from you,” Olivera crowed. “You want to go all rogue, that’s not blowing back on me. I know this means nothing, but I’d appreciate transparency on your part. You know something, you share it with me.”
Roark extended his hand and stared Olivera in his gray blood shot eyes. “You have my word. Believe it or not, that’s worth something.”
“She’s in a house on Dexter Avenue.” Olivera put his phone to his ear and started barking out orders to whoever was on the other end.
When Olivera hung his phone up and tucked it in his pocket they stepped through the hospital doors. “You need to pull a case file. I’ll send the information to your phone but it’s linked to what happened today. Demi is the key to unlocking all this and catching whoever is responsible for ambushing Charger. Get someone to pull absolutely everything you have and meet me at the safe house.”
“I’ll send the address to your phone,” Olivera grumbled reluctantly. “Don’t screw me over, Roark. This is my case.”
“You’ll be the hero. I’m not looking for anything but the truth. It’s high time Demi started telling it.” Roark nodded to Olivera as they parted ways.
He’d been gentle with Demi, thoughtful about her past and protecting her state of mind. He’d let her live her lie. It hadn’t been his place to disrupt her life. Who was he to judge how she’d repaired what someone else had broken. But all that ended now. She was the lynch pin and now it was time to get the truth, by any means necessary. The only problem was, if she looked at him with those kind eyes he’d be rattled, off his game. He had to put aside how he felt about her and remember his friend lying in surgery right now. He owed it to Charger to find the people responsible, even if it meant breaking the woman who’d finally started to break down his own walls.
TEN
Roark flashed his driver’s license at the uniformed police officer standing outside the door of the basement apartment of the safe house.
“Olivera phoned in that you’d be coming. He said to watch you like a hawk though. You’re Roark Miller, the ex-detective, right?” The young cop’s face lit with a sparkle of excitement. “I’ve heard some crazy ass stories about you. Are they true?”
“Probably,” Roark said with a little amusement in his voice. “But unless you want to be part of one yourself how about you open that door and get the hell out of my way.”
This seemed to excite the officer even more as he unlocked the door and swung it open like he was letting royalty in.
At the sight of Demi, Roark’s heart caught fire. She looked absolutely pitiful in her tattered sweatshirt, her thumbs pushed through holes in the sleeves. Her hair was pulled back into a messy ponytail and her eyes were wild with worry.
“Roark,” she breathed out, the single word punctuated with a little cry that cut at him. “What the hell is going on? These cops just rush me and take me to this creepy basement and no one will tell me why.”
He considered being cold to her. Wasn’t it what she deserved for withholding a truth that might have cost Charger his life? But with her brows furrowed and her arms hugged tightly around herself he couldn’t muster the energy to attack.
“Charger’s been shot,” was all he could get out before having to avert his eyes from hers. “He got ambushed. He’s in surgery now and I haven’t gotten an update.”
“No,” she cried, covering her mouth to stop the sobs from spilling out. “I don’t understand why this is happening.”
“Yes you do,” Roark answered, stepping a few feet closer to her. He nodded for the officer who was sitting in the corner to leave and he was glad to see his authority still did the trick as the man nodded back his understanding and then left. “It’s time to talk about it. I understand why you felt the need to keep your past a secret but it’s most certainly linked to what happened today. It’s going to come out either way, so please don’t waste time. I know who you are.”
She recoiled, her face painted with complete puzzled disbelief. “I am Demi Kay. I grew up in Maine. My mother was Margaret Kay my father Doyle Kay. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You understand these people tried to kill a cop, right? Charger and I may have had our disagreements but he is my friend and I don’t intend to let the people who did this walk the earth for much longer. Trying to protect yourself, I understand it, but you have to own up to the truth. It’s coming anyway. Charger was doing his job, he was there for you, and you owe him at least this. You aren’t from Maine, admit that.”
“I don’t know what you want from me,” Demi cried out. “I’m sorry about Charger, really I am. He’s sweet and didn’t deserve to be attacked but I have no idea what you’re talking about. You can look into my past. Call my teachers from grade school. I worked at a deli in the general store for six years. Call them.” She stepped forward and clutched his arm. “Please, just look into my past. Dig as deep as you want but you have to believe me.”
“Are you so delusional that you can’t see that it’s going to unravel? What is your answer going to be when everything you’re saying can’t be backed up?”
“It can!” Demi called back. “What are you going to say when you look into my past and everything I’m saying is completely true? My name is Demitria Kay.”
Their voices had grown to shouts and her tears were coming fast as the door to the dark apartment swung open. Olivera stormed in looking like his head might pop.
“What the hell are you doing, Roark? You’re screaming at her?” Olivera slammed the door behind him and tossed the files he had under his arm on to the coffee table.
The thundering way he’d opened the door had Roark’s hand on his gun and Demi’s body quaking in fear. Her hand was still clutched down on Roark’s muscle and he fought the urge to pull her into his arms.
“You scared the shit out of her,” Roark accused as he turned toward Olivera. “Don’t you know better than to nearly take a door off the hinges when coming into a safe house?”
“Excuse me,” Olivera said indignantly. “I hear you shouting at her from down the damn hall and I’m the one scaring the shit out of her?”
“I just want this to be over,” Demi pleaded.
“Your name is Alexandria Conway,” Roark replied, watching her face closely for the slightest sign of recognition, but the only thing she showed was more confusion. “Ten years ago you were nearly beaten to death in a home invasion. Your boyfriend was killed.”
“I am Demitria Kay. I was
raised in Maine. Please, just go check it out. You’ll see I’m telling the truth.” Demi tightened her grip on his arm.
“Olivera,” he said flatly, reaching his hand up and touching Demi’s cheek gently. “Call someone from psych. She needs an evaluation. This isn’t getting us anywhere.”
“I’m not crazy!” Demi insisted, stumbling back away from him. “I was never beaten up and nearly killed.”
Roark snatched up the files on the table and flipped to the very familiar page that held the pictures of Alexandria. He didn’t get any satisfaction by crumbling the protective lie she’d built, but it needed to be done. She may know something that could save her life. He turned the folder so she could see it. “You are Alexandria Conway.” Pointing to the picture he watched her eyes cloud over as she blinked away the tears.
“Alexandria,” Demi mouthed quietly. “That’s her name?” She stepped forward and scrutinized the photo as she shook her head in disbelief. “I’m not crazy. I’m not lying, and I’m not Alexandria Conway.”
ELEVEN
DEMI
“If you stop looking at me like that I’ll tell you what I think is going on,” Demi asserted as she flared her nostrils and pursed her lips. She’d made mistakes in her life but no one deserved the accusations Roark was firing at her.
Roark raised his hands in surrender and his face softened slightly, but Demi could tell he was still far from convinced.
“Years ago, back in Maine,” she stressed, “ my parents were killed in a car accident. They slid off an icy road and down an embankment. In the blink of an eye I lost the two most important people in my life and I was devastated. When it came time to sell their house I started organizing all of their things and came across some paperwork. It was an adoption decree. They weren’t my biological parents.” Demi’s mind drifted back to that moment in time as she kneeled in front of her father’s old gray safe sobbing at the realization that they’d lied to her for so long. “It broke my heart to know that they’d kept it from me. Then I was enraged. It was a really dark time for me. It got worse when I dug deeper.”