by Lynette Mae
Mac admired the woodwork along the ceiling. “The crown molding looks great.”
“Thanks. The extra time I spent in Mr. Hanssen’s wood shop back in high school must have taught me something. The master bathroom is my next project. It’s good therapy and it keeps me out of trouble.”
“Looks like a lot of work. Ya know, when you first bought this old place, I thought you’d gotten hit in the head one too many times. But I gotta hand it to ya, buddy, it’s really coming together. If you ever need any help, I’d be happy to lend a hand.”
“I’ll keep that in mind when I start tearing out walls.”
“I can swing a sledgehammer,” Mac assured her.
“Oh, I almost forgot. How was the party the other night?”
“Amazing. I know women’s basketball doesn’t rival the NBA, but let me tell ya, there were some money people there. Conner’s got the world by the tail.”
“It must be exciting for her, and you. Hell, I don’t know anyone else whose cousin is a professional athlete. That’s cool. What about the clientele at that shindig? Any new conquests?”
Mac smiled widely.
“Wow. That good, huh?”
Mac bit her lip but remained silent.
“As in you might see her again?”
“C’mon, you know me better than that,” Mac said. Devon watched the grin slide off her friend’s face and a wistful expression replaced it. “She was definitely gorgeous.”
“So?”
“Repeats are rare ever since Megan,” Mac said seriously.
“Well, there was Ann.”
“Yeah, but I think that worked because we both knew there was a time limit. Kept us both from getting antsy.”
“What happened with Megan sucked. You really loved her.” The fact that Mac mentioned Megan surprised her. Devon knew that Mac’s ex-lover cheated on her with a higher-ranking male officer when she was in the army, but not much more. They were under investigation for being lesbians, and Megan betrayed Mac to save herself. Devon watched painful memories float in her friend’s eyes.
“Yes,” Mac said. “I did love her. But it’s not just that. It’s more like I’ve never learned to trust my own judgment again when it comes to women.”
Devon nodded. “I know what you mean. After Jillian left, I didn’t understand how I could have missed all the signs. Turns out there were no signs,” she scoffed. “I wasn’t wrong—exactly. Sometimes I wonder what’s worse, thinking a woman screwed you over or knowing that they loved you, but left anyway. I mean, knowing that Jill did love me made me feel better on one hand, but then I’ll always wonder how she could have left. And then, of course, what if?”
“That’s a tough one.” Mac said. “Now you’re totally different people. You were really just kids then. Who’s to say? You two were living in a pressure cooker. Military regulations, security clearances, and the raging hormones of youth.” She whistled softly. “Combustible combination.”
“Very true. But she should have tried to fight for us. The fact that she didn’t says it all.”
They downed their shots.
Mac smacked her glass on the table. “You don’t think that leaving someone you love in order to protect them is commendable? The way I remember it, she denied having a relationship with you to keep you out of the investigation. Maybe you should give her a break.”
“Maybe. Doesn’t really matter now, right? She made her choice and like you said, I’m a different person today.” Devon poured them each another round. “Anyway, back to you and the mystery woman. Something’s different. Tell.”
Mac looked away and blushed uncharacteristically, taking Devon off guard. She narrowed her eyes and studied her friend. “What? You’re really interested?” Mac’s cheeks were nearly crimson now. “Oh, now I’ve gotta hear this,” Devon said.
“No. Well, yeah. Maybe.”
Devon raised an eyebrow and waited. Her hesitant reaction was something that Devon had never seen from Mac. She was comfortable and confident in her own skin, and single by choice. She wasn’t the type to brag about her conquests, but Mac made no secret of the fact that she stayed away from commitment. Devon knew Mac enjoyed strong, sometimes enigmatic women, and if they were redheads, even better.
Finally Mac spoke. “This woman was different.”
“Spill it,” Devon instructed. Mac chewed her lip, and fidgeted. She picked at the label on her beer bottle, stalling. Devon was fascinated watching this side of Mac. Hell, she was almost vulnerable.
“There’s not really much to tell. She was invited because she does security for the Orlando team during the season. I was fortunate she wasn’t on duty that night.”
Devon watched Mac’s thoughts drift in her eyes, like a movie was playing inside her head. She asked, “Does she have a name?”
“T.J.”
“That’s it? That’s all you know?”
Devon swore she saw horns sprout on Mac’s head to go with the devilish glint in her eyes. “Oh, I know a lot more than that. But there wasn’t time to get much more than her name.” Mac glanced away. “We didn’t exactly do much talking.”
“Do you ever?” Devon laughed. She cocked her head toward the patio and they walked out to settle again at the table. “So, you know me, I always ask, even though I get the same response every time. You gonna see her again?”
Mac grew serious. “I’d like to.”
“Holy shit. You would?” She had Devon’s complete attention. This was big. “Now, you have to tell me more about her.”
“One word. Gorgeous. She’s about five eleven, auburn hair just past her shoulders, big brown eyes, and a killer body. That makes sense because she’s a tactical ops instructor for the Orange County Sheriff. She has this smooth voice like melted caramel.” Mac stared over the water, absorbed in the memory.
“Sounds exactly like your type.”
“Oh, you know what my type is?” Mac’s gaze shifted back to Devon.
“Yeah, I’ve kinda picked up on it over the years. She’s a cop? Huh. Imagine that,” Devon teased. “You did have a conversation with the woman.” She shook her head in wonder. “After all the mindless encounters, a woman with handcuffs is what gets your attention.”
Mac chuckled.
“Did you get this T.J.’s number?” Devon wasn’t about to let this go.
“Uh, no.”
“What? Are you kidding me? The first woman in years who gets to you and you didn’t get her number? Jesus, she really turned your brain to mush.”
Mac shook her head helplessly. “I wanted to. It’s just that she made it plain that she didn’t do repeats.” She sighed heavily. “I guess I’ve finally gotten a taste of what that’s like.” She pulled at a string on her shorts, avoiding Devon’s eyes.
Devon said after a few minutes, “I’ll be in Orlando all week for that SWAT school. Who knows? I might run into this T.J. and then I could call you.”
The corner of Mac’s mouth twisted with the hint of a smile.
No doubt that whoever this woman was, Mac was hooked. Hopefully, the woman would be at the SWAT training, and if so, Devon would have the opportunity to size her up. “I’ll find her and get the number.”
“She probably won’t even remember me.” Mac was trying to sound cavalier, but Devon saw below the thank you in her friend’s eyes.
Mac fell silent and Devon’s thoughts drifted to the earlier conversation about Jessie—more specifically her own reaction. She puzzled over that. Jessie was attractive, so why should she be surprised that Mac would notice? And Jessie’s ex? Devon wondered how anyone could let Jessie go, let alone hurt her. Nate said he saw the two of them in the parking lot of the station, meaning Jessie’s ex was also a cop. Idiot cop. Then she smiled remembering the sparkle in Jessie’s eyes when she laughed and the tender look when they said goodbye after dinner, making Devon long to stay with her.
“So are you off next Saturday after the school?” Mac’s question brought Devon back from her musing.
“Hmm? Oh, yeah.”
“You’ve been kinda distracted all night. You all right?”
“Yeah, I guess something in the air’s got me thinking about women.”
“Are we talking past or present now?”
“A little of both, I guess,” Devon said idly. Another dream about Alex had kept her up half the night. Why was she suddenly thinking about her past? She felt as though the shooting had tapped into her most painful memories and now her mind wouldn’t stop. And then Jessie popped up in the middle of all this turmoil. That’s probably all it was, residual angst working on her nerves at the same time she met someone new. Besides, it wasn’t as though Jessie was anything like Alex or Jillian—not that she knew her really—but it seemed obvious they couldn’t have been more different. Alex was dark and sultry, serious and intellectual. Jillian was the lady-killer with her fiery hair and salacious eyes who used her looks to conquer hearts, regardless of the consequences. Her first impressions of Jessie were warm and breezy, someone who didn’t take herself too seriously. That was something Devon needed to learn.
“What’s going on with you and Nate’s rookie?” Devon’s head snapped around and Mac said, “I figured I’d hit a nerve earlier. Sorry.”
Devon raked a hand through her hair. “You didn’t do anything. I have no reason to be sensitive about it. I ran into her in the gym a couple weeks ago. Then she was there when Nate and I had dinner last Thursday. I’ve seen her a couple of times around the station and we’ve chatted a little more—the weather and work stuff mostly. She’s very nice. That’s it. Besides, as you said, she’s a rookie and I’m a training corporal. Probably not a good idea.”
“Hell, I remember a young lieutenant who skirted the rules to be with a beautiful CIA agent. She’ll only be a trainee for a few more days, and she’s definitely an adult from what I’ve seen.”
“Stop,” Devon said. “I hardly know the woman.”
Mac sipped her beer. “Then get to know her. The fact that you’ve stopped to talk with her on more than one occasion speaks volumes. You are interested, right?” She held Devon’s gaze with an expression of steadfast support that reminded her of the way Mac looked at her the first night she’d admitted her relationship with Alex. Before terrorist attacks effortlessly exploded a marine barracks and then blasted through Devon’s soul.
Thankfully, the pain had become a manageable part of her, like the occasional flare-ups in her knee, and mostly Devon could think about Alexandra fondly now. Mostly. In the beginning she saw Alex lying dead in the sand of the Middle East every time she closed her eyes. Worse, she lived with the knowledge that she’d pushed Alex into an interagency contest to see who could neutralize the terrorist group responsible for an attack on Americans in Lebanon. That foolish race between them may very likely have contributed to Alex’s death. Devon sighed and stared up at the stars for a few moments, hoping wherever Alex was that she was happy.
She turned to look directly at her friend. “Do you think we only get one shot at finding love in this life?”
Mac blinked, obviously taken off guard by the question. “Umm…I don’t know. How do you mean?”
“I mean the real thing. Is that just some silly dream or is it possible?” For someone like me? At first it appeared as though Mac was going to make a joke, but she must have realized that Devon was completely serious. She frowned and examined her beer bottle rather than answering.
Devon continued talking, working out her puzzling thoughts aloud. “Both of us—we thought we had it once, right? Jillian and Megan?” Mac remained silent watching her friend. “And Alex…thought…I…” Devon couldn’t finish the damning truth around the sudden lump in her throat.
“Are you having the nightmares again?” Mac asked cautiously.
“Not too many.” Devon watched the amber reflections of the torches dance on the surface of the pool. It was the truth. The nightmares were less frequent. Although Mac was with her when they found Alex’s body, she couldn’t bring herself to talk about it, even now. She figured it was the price to pay for her shortcomings. No reason to burden anyone else with her guilt. “I admit the shooting kind of stirred up a lot of old shit for me, but I’ll be fine.”
Mac nodded. After a few minutes she broke the silence. “Don’t let the past keep you from finding happiness.” She offered a small smile. “You like her. And she’s cute. Just see what happens.”
Devon couldn’t deny her attraction. There was something about her. Cute? Yeah. With a something that gave Devon a nice little buzz. “I think I’d like that,” she said.
“To possibility.” Mac raised her bottle and Devon followed.
“To possibility,” Devon echoed. They tapped their bottles together and she added, “For both of us.”
Chapter Four
“WHY IS IT that I can’t get you to come and see me unless I entice you with an interesting case?” Kelsey Sinclair greeted Devon with a look somewhere between seductive and accusatory, her voice laced with innuendo as always. She didn’t mean anything by it. Kelsey was a natural flirt. Her playful nature endeared her to everyone, men and women alike. She pushed back her thick chestnut hair that was always in an appealing state of disarray, and her deep dimples winked at Devon when she smiled.
“Who are you kidding? There’s normally a line out the door to get in here to see you,” Devon teased back. “Where’s the ticket thing? Don’t I need to take a number?” She stepped further into the small office, little more than a formal cubicle. The detective was seated behind a banged up gray metal desk that had no doubt seen years of action. Piles of paperwork and assorted folders covered nearly every inch of the work surface and overflowed onto the floor around Kelsey’s chair. A print reproduction of Norman Rockwell’s Saturday Evening Post cover, “The Runaway,” hung behind her desk. Its innocent depiction of a beat cop seated next to a youngster at a Fifties soda shop counter was paired in direct contrast to the other bit of art on the wall, a gritty poster image of Serpico, the maligned NYPD narcotics officer nearly murdered by fellow cops when he refused to take bribes. Devon was certain there was a message in there somewhere.
“Funny.” Kelsey made a show of pouting and batted her caramel colored eyes. “I’d never make you wait, but you never notice me.”
“You know that’s not true.”
“Yeah, yeah. Not the marrying kind.” Kelsey grabbed the stack of files from the chair next to the desk and then waved her arm in that direction. “Have a seat, Dev.”
Devon sat on the edge of a straight-backed wooden chair, careful not to catch her holster or other utility belt items on the arms. “So, my friend, what’s up with the car from the robbery?”
The detective flipped the open file on her desk and pushed it in front of Devon. “I think the vehicle used in that robbery was from a chop shop operation that I’ve been working on. We’ve had five vehicles stolen this month that aren’t the usual kids joy-riding stuff. The cars are turning up in various crimes like the robbery the other day. Same M.O. mostly, Eighties and Nineties model Chevys and Fords, every once in a while an RX7 or something like that. We’re not sure about the sports cars, but I’ve got a hunch they do those for special orders. They remove the vehicle identification numbers, put a bogus tag on them and sell them to whoever.”
Devon lifted the folder from the desk and thumbed through the pages. All of the vehicles were taken from downtown lots in the middle of the day. “The crowded lots make it easy for them to operate. By the time the owners get out of work and notice their cars missing, hours have passed.” Devon spoke absently, continuing to scan the documents.
“Exactly.” Kelsey sank back into her chair and tapped her lip with a pen. “So far, I haven’t got much, except a theft pattern downtown. No witnesses. I have a couple of leads on auto repair shops over off of Broadway, though. My snitch says that’s where I should be looking. He says the word on the street is that Roy Beckman can get you a car. He owns Roy’s Auto Repair at Broadway and Sixty-fifth.”
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“And Roy just happens to have auto theft priors,” Devon observed. She pulled the rap sheet on Beckman out of the folder, studying the photo to commit his face to memory. His criminal history started in his teens. Mostly small-time stuff. According to the file, he graduated to grand theft auto at seventeen and did time for dealing in stolen property at twenty-two. “What about prints?”
“So far, the robbery vehicle is the only one we’ve recovered that we can process. Two others were torched. I’ll let you know if forensics gets something. They should be done processing it in the next day or so.”
Devon glanced up from the paperwork. “What about the guys we arrested from the robbery? Do they know anything about whoever they got the car from?”
“No. Or if they do they’re not saying right now. I’m heading over to county jail this afternoon to interview them again. I think I might be able to get the passenger to give up something. He’s facing fifteen years minimum mandatory if he’s convicted, so he’ll be looking for something to help his case.”
“Anything else?” Devon set the file back in front of the detective.
“I don’t know if this is going to be anything, but my snitch also said Roy’s new mechanic recently got out of prison. I’m still working on a name. All I’ve got is a white male, six feet, brown hair and eyes. So, I hoped you might do some snooping around over on the east end of your area.”
Devon stood. “I’ll keep an eye out, Kelsey. My zone officer will patrol the downtown lots more aggressively, calls permitting. I’ll take a ride over on Broadway today, see if I notice anything that you can use.”