Watch Your Back

by Rose, Karen

  ‘Detective Kersey,’ Stevie said. ‘I’m Detective Stevie Mazzetti. Thank you for your time.’

  ‘You’re welcome,’ he said, his voice raspy. ‘You’ve had some excitement, Detective.’

  ‘We heard about Tony Rossi,’ Mrs Kersey said. ‘We keep up with Danny’s old squad. Word travels fast. We’re sorry about the police officer who was killed, but glad you’re all right.’

  Her husband nodded after she was finished and Stevie realized his wife had become accustomed to helping him communicate. ‘Thank you. Did you expect me to call?’

  ‘No,’ Kersey whispered into the mike. ‘But I’m not surprised. I was Rossi’s partner.’

  ‘I know. I wanted to talk to you about a case. Tracy Gardner. Do you remember her?’

  Kersey’s eyes closed slowly. ‘Yes.’

  ‘The day you and Rossi responded to her 911 about the break-in at her family’s house, did you believe her story? She’d said she’d been at a college class, that she’d arrived home to find the burglary. But you touched her car and said it was ice cold. Why did you do that?’

  ‘I didn’t believe her. She couldn’t meet my eyes.’ Kersey went still, but held up his index finger. ‘I sometimes lose my breath. It’s ALS, dammit. Gehrig’s, you know.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Stevie murmured. She didn’t know much about Lou Gehrig’s disease, except that it was a deterioration of the nerves and was always fatal. Now she could see how mercilessly it ravaged a person’s body. Behind her, Clay squeezed her shoulder.

  ‘Me, too,’ Kersey whispered. ‘Tracy Gardner said she went to class, came home, and called 911 right away. Two uniforms showed up before we got there. Rossi and I got there an hour later.’ He stopped again, his breathing labored.

  ‘Should I call back later?’ Stevie asked, worried that he’d pass out.

  ‘No. Need to do this today. Need to make it right.’

  His wife touched his face. ‘You didn’t do anything wrong, Danny.’

  Kersey smiled weakly. ‘But I can still make it right. I use the Skype to see my grandkids. I drink in the sight of them. Lifts my spirits.’

  ‘I’m glad,’ Stevie said simply, wondering if his mind had wandered.

  ‘I talk to my friends from the force on the phone. I don’t want them to see me like this. But you . . . I wanted to see your face. Needed to see if it was true.’

  ‘What was true, sir?’ Stevie asked.

  ‘That you’ve been investigating your old partner’s cases because you feel guilty. Because you looked the other way or were sloppy.’

  Stevie stiffened, felt Clay tense behind her. She’d heard the cops’ whispers and rumors, tried not to let them hurt. But they did. ‘Is it true?’ she asked.

  ‘I don’t think so. I know you can work next to someone and not know they’re dirty. And when I said I needed to make it right, you understood.’

  ‘I saw the victims,’ she said. ‘And their families. They didn’t get justice. And innocent men and women are sitting in prison. I can’t let that continue without trying to make it right.’

  ‘I still see that girl’s face. Tracy Gardner. And her mother’s face. She found her, you know.’

  ‘I know. Who do you think killed her?’

  ‘The boyfriend. I’ll get to him in a minute. Tracy’s car was cold, so I knew she hadn’t driven it, but she could have caught a ride. I didn’t ask because I didn’t want her to know I didn’t believe her. I went to Tracy’s college the next morning. Talked to her professor. She wasn’t in class the day before or that day either. He said she skipped class often, but a lot of the kids did.’

  ‘So she lied to you. You think she was home during the burglary?’

  ‘I thought she might have been. I knew she wasn’t where she’d said she was. But I never got a chance to pursue it because she was killed later that day. Now, about the boyfriend. Edward Ginsberg, went by Eddie.’

  ‘Berg with an “e” or a “u”?’ Stevie asked.

  ‘“E”,’ Kersey said with a frown. ‘It’s in the report.’

  It was Stevie’s turn to frown. ‘No, it’s not. Your report is very short, less than a page.’

  Kersey’s eyes flashed. ‘Sonofabitch.’ Then he started gasping for breath.

  His wife stepped in. ‘Tone it down or I’ll end the call and you can write her an email. I’m serious.’ She glanced at the webcam. ‘I’m sorry, Detective Mazzetti. His health comes first.’

  ‘Of course,’ Stevie said.

  ‘I’m calm,’ Kersey rasped. ‘Dammit, woman. Don’t treat me like a child.’ He took a few moments to catch his breath. ‘My report was longer than a page. At some point it must have been altered if that’s all you found. I don’t need to be a detective to figure out who did it.’

  ‘Rossi,’ Stevie said. ‘I found discrepancies in some of Silas’s reports, too. I’m glad I kept my notebooks. Tell me about Eddie Ginsberg.’

  ‘Tracy’s father suspected Eddie, but Tracy defended him. Eddie’s family had money, she said. Eddie had no reason to steal. Truth was that Eddie was a rich punk with too much time on his hands. Rossi and I went to his house after we left the school. He was playing video games, even though he should have been in class. I told him that Tracy’s father suspected him. He said Tracy could “handle her daddy”. I didn’t confirm or deny and Eddie got pissed. Then he laughed it off, saying it didn’t matter what the bitch said, that he had three guys who’d swear he was with them, hanging out watching TV. We got the names, then Rossi and I went to lunch.’ Kersey looked pained. ‘I wish I hadn’t gone to lunch.’

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘We went to her house after lunch to confront her. Knocked on the door. Nobody was home. Went back to the precinct to start calling pawn shops, trying to track the stolen goods.’ Another pause while Kersey caught his breath. ‘We went back to the Gardner house at about four o’clock, thinking to catch the mother. The mother was there. So was the ME.’

  ‘Tracy was dead by then,’ Stevie said. ‘Raped, asphyxiated, then stabbed. Crime of rage?’

  ‘I thought so. My first thought was, “Eddie did this. I goaded him and he killed her.” But Silas found the homeless guy and I was relieved. I hadn’t pushed Eddie to murder.’ His face crumpled, his thin shoulders sagging. ‘Now . . . God.’

  ‘If Eddie killed Tracy, then it’s on him,’ Stevie said. ‘Not you.’

  ‘We all say that because it makes us feel better. But thanks for trying.’ He looked away for a second, regaining his composure. ‘Then Homicide showed up. Silas Dandridge.’

  ‘Did you tell Silas about Edward Ginsberg and the fact Tracy lied about class?’

  ‘Yes. And that I thought that Eddie was guilty of the crime. But Silas found the homeless guy, Richard Steel, with the murder weapon. He had a slam –’ a gasp for breath. ‘– dunk.’

  ‘Did you think Richard Steel was guilty of Tracy Gardner’s murder?’ Stevie asked.

  ‘He had the bloody knife and Silas said that Eddie had an alibi, but it worried me. However, Silas was Homicide’s hotshot. Which I’m sure you know since you were his partner for so long.’

  ‘The Finder,’ Stevie remembered grimly. ‘We used to call him that because he had a knack for finding what would become key pieces of evidence. Now we know how he managed it. It’s easy to find the eggs if you’re the Easter bunny. Did you ever suspect Rossi?’

  ‘Not at first. At the end, yes. Nothing tangible.’ He stopped to breathe again.

  ‘He’s getting tired,’ Mrs Kersey said. ‘You have to hurry up.’

  ‘We think Rossi may have been working with someone,’ Stevie said. ‘Do you have any idea of who that might have been?’

  ‘He was friendly with Scott Culp. I didn’t trust Culp, either.’

  Holy hell, Stevie thought, blinking i
n stunned surprise. Scott Culp? That name was very familiar. ‘Why didn’t you trust Scott Culp?’

  ‘They hung out together on their off days, were more than friends. I thought they were gay, which was Rossi’s biz, so I left it be. But there was always something about Culp. Smug bastard. Wore snazzy shoes. Italian suits. Liked to play the ponies. Rossi did, too. A few times I saw Rossi flash wads of cash, size of my fist. Said he’d won it at the track. Hell.’ Kersey closed his eyes, clearly fatigued. ‘You’ll see that Tracy Gardner and Richard Steel get justice.’

  It wasn’t a request. ‘I will. I promise.’

  ‘Good.’ He sank back into his wheelchair, away from the microphone.

  ‘I’m sorry I took so much of your time,’ Stevie said. ‘And your energy.’

  Mrs Kersey shook her head. ‘This is all the talking he’ll do today, but I know he considers it well worth it. He didn’t expect your call, Detective Mazzetti, but he’s worried that he’d hear from IA ever since Silas Dandridge was exposed. I remember the Gardner girl’s case, Danny lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, worrying about what to do. But like he said, Silas had a slam dunk.’

  ‘All of Silas’s frame-ups were slam dunks,’ Stevie said bitterly. ‘I’ve spent my share of hours staring at the ceiling, worrying. I’ll contact you when I have news. Take care.’

  ‘You too, Detective,’ Mrs Kersey said. ‘Goodbye.’

  Stevie hung up, turned to find Clay texting on his phone. ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘Getting info on Scott Culp,’ he said.

  ‘You don’t have to. Him, I know.’

  Clay leaned his hip against the table, once again encroaching into her space. ‘Who is he?’

  ‘He was in the robbery division. Did a short stint in Vice. Now he’s IA.’

  Clay’s eyes widened. ‘You’ve got to be kidding.’

  ‘I wish. And Kersey’s right – Culp is a smug bastard. He was there on Friday when I told IA I thought more cops were involved than were on Lippman’s list. I told them that I’d been attacked twice already that week. Later that afternoon somebody – maybe Rossi – shot at me. Twice yesterday, more shots. Then last night Rossi did shoot, thinking it was me.’

  Color rose on his cheeks. ‘Culp is Hyatt’s leak. An IA guy told Rossi where to find you.’

  ‘Chances are damn good. I need to tell Hyatt.’ She started to lift the phone’s handset, then thought better of it and hung it back up. ‘If someone in IA leaked the safe house location, Hyatt has the obligation to tell them. But IA could inadvertently give Culp the heads up. He’ll bolt.’

  ‘Chances are damn good,’ Clay said, grimly echoing her words.

  ‘I want to check him out myself. But I don’t want to leave Cordelia.’ Stevie gritted her teeth. ‘It’s a vicious circle. And even if Culp did tell Rossi where to find the safe house, we still don’t know who did the drive-by yesterday. Or the restaurant.’ She dropped her head into her hands. ‘This is a nightmare and I’m trapped here because they know I won’t leave my daughter.’

  ‘Stevie, listen to me.’ Clay’s voice held a steel edge, demanding her attention, and cautiously she lifted her head. ‘We have two Federal agents standing watch out front and my father inside the house, armed with a pretty impressive arsenal.’

  Clay leaned forward until his face was inches away. ‘Cordelia is safe here, even if you leave for a few hours. She’ll be safe tomorrow.’ He came closer still, until his face was all she could see. ‘We will keep her safe until the threat is eliminated. And I have your back, no matter what we have to do to make that happen.’

  Her fear retreated as his words took root. This was not a careless man. He planned for contingencies. He covered all the bases. He’d proven himself over and over again.

  She trusted him to help her. And then, if she chose to walk away, he’d let her.

  I’d miss him. The thought seemed to come from nowhere. But she knew better. She had been missing him since December. She’d missed knowing there was someone she could depend on, someone who was there when she needed him. And she’d missed the tight feeling in her stomach she’d get whenever she knew she was going to see him again. She’d missed his face.

  That face that she’d always thought looked hewn out of solid rock. Unmoving. Unbreakable.

  But he was breakable. I broke him. No, she’d hurt him. He was not broken. Far from it. He was made of stronger stuff than that. Just like me.

  Stevie was breathing in short, shallow breaths because there didn’t seem to be any air. His eyes heated, but he didn’t move a muscle. He held her gaze with steady focus and waited.

  Just like he’d waited during the months since December. And long before that.

  Because all she could see was his face, she indulged, looking her fill. He was too rugged to be classically handsome, but there was beauty in every rough plane of his face. Her fingertips tingled to touch, her hand seeming to lift of its own volition.

  She skimmed her fingertips across his cheek, his skin warm and resilient. Alive. He flinched slightly, but still didn’t move. Like he was gentling a feral creature, allowing her to become used to him. She felt like that sometimes. Feral. Trapped and alone.

  You don’t have to be alone. He’s yours for the taking. It was a heady notion. Too heady to consider at the moment, when all she could manage were those shallow breaths. She touched his jaw, already dark with stubble. He remained motionless. Holding her gaze. Holding his breath.

  Until she cupped his jaw in her palm. He shuddered, the air pushing from his lungs in a pained gust that left his shoulders sagging. Bracing his hand on the table, he closed his eyes and dropped his head a fraction, sinking into her caress.

  Like he was starving for touch. My touch. She didn’t know a heart could feel sorrow and exhilaration at the same time, but as she lifted her other hand to his face, that was exactly what she felt. Keeping the first hand where it was, she traced his brow, the line of his nose. His lips. So soft. His lips were so soft.

  Through it all he didn’t make another move. Kept one hand on the table, still clutching his phone. The other hand lay fisted at his side. Leaving it all up to her. It’s to be my decision then.

  Again, a heady thought that left her needy and aching, yet feeling powerful. Exhilarating.

  But the sorrow remained. I did this. I kept this from him. I kept him from this. The touch, the closeness he hadn’t had with anyone else. Because he waited. For me.

  ‘I don’t want to hurt you again,’ she whispered. ‘But I’m afraid I will.’

  His eyes opened and she was hit full force with the sheer magnitude of his hunger. ‘I’ll risk it,’ came his hoarse reply. And then his mouth was on hers, hard and fast. And good. So good. The hand he’d kept by his side was suddenly in her hair, pulling her even closer.

  His phone clattered to the table, his other hand suddenly brushing the side of her breast on its way to her back and she was lifted to her feet, the kiss unbroken. His mouth . . . God, the man could kiss. Like he was starving, she thought again, more dimly this time.

  So am I. God, so am I. She wrapped her arms around his neck and hung on, throwing herself into the heat of him, kissing him back. Making him growl, deep in his throat. Sending a vibration through his chest that she felt against her breasts.

  More than a tickle, far less than a stroke, the brief sensation made her nipples hard, and she wanted more. She pressed closer and his hands slid down her back, closing over her butt, lifting her higher against him with ease. But not high enough. Not even close.

  He ripped his mouth away long enough to let them both fill their lungs, staring at her, his mouth wet from hers. ‘More?’ he asked, the word barely intelligible.

  She licked her lips, tasting him. More? Hell yeah. But he was waiting for her to answer. To use an actual word. ‘Ye—’

 
He didn’t let her finish, diving in again, giving her more. More. It was a pulsing in her head, overriding any other thought, spreading to her breasts, between her legs. He pivoted, lifting her to sit on the edge of the table, blindly pushing her laptop out of the way. He ran hands that trembled down her legs, pulling them wider so that he could move closer, all while he ate at her mouth with kisses that set every nerve in her body to buzzing.

  Buzzing. Something was buzzing. It broke through the sexual haze and she groped around the table, searching for the source. Cell phone.

  She pulled away far enough to whisper, ‘It’s yours.’

  He was breathing hard. ‘Let ’em call back,’ he said. Then groaned. ‘No. Give it to me.’

  She handed it to him, gripping his shoulder with her other hand to keep her balance when her body threatened to weave. ‘Talk fast,’ she whispered.

  ‘I will.’ With an expression of supreme irritation he checked his phone’s screen. Then went abruptly still, sexual frustration becoming lethal calm in the blink of an eye.

  Stevie straightened her spine, a jolt of adrenaline clearing her mind. ‘What is it?’ she asked, but he was already running up the stairs to the deck, his gun in his hand.

  ‘The underwater thermal cameras,’ he called over his shoulder. ‘Someone’s coming. Stay here until I give the all clear.’

  She opened her mouth to tell him what he could do with his ‘Stay here’, but years of training overruled.

  ‘Think,’ she muttered to herself because Clay was long gone. But rational thought was difficult with every maternal instinct she possessed clawing at her to move. To protect her child.

  Cordelia’s in the house. The house with bullet-resistant windows and security doors. She’s safe as long as she stays in the house.

  Clay’s command still rankled, scraping at her pride, but down deep it made sense. The sniper at the restaurant was likely still out there. And the triggering of the underwater alarms coming so quickly after her call to Kersey sent up a red flag in her mind. Kersey could have been playing her, feeding her info to prod her into making a move into the open.