She opened the door and let Hero out first. The dog bounded out to say hello to Rose Caruso. Brinna studied her mom for a minute before following the dog.
Rose never left the house without being carefully dressed and made-up. Today, she was more than a little disheveled. Her tan slacks were wrinkled, and perspiration ovals showed under the arms of her light-colored blouse.
Rose was dark-haired, like Brinna, but green-eyed and a little thick in the hips. She seemed grayer than the last time Brinna had seen her, and her hair wasn’t as perfectly coiffed as usual. Brinna wondered if newspaper reporters had been bugging her mom, not only about the shooting but about the anniversary.
“Hi, Mom.” Brinna stepped onto the porch to give her mom a hug.
“I’ve been trying to reach you for days.” Rose’s voice was clipped, tense.
“I know; sorry. I’ve been kind of busy. What’s up?”
“It’s your father. He’s in the hospital. Brinna, he’s dying.”
33
“HE’S LIVED in a bottle for twenty years; what did he expect?” Brinna turned away from her mother and shoved a glass under the tap for water, all the while stalling, wondering what it was she was supposed to feel.
“A little more compassion, Brin. He is your father.” Rose sat on the couch, head in her hands.
Brinna carried two glasses of water to the living room and gave one to her mother before sitting down in the chair across from the couch. “But are you surprised?” she asked.
Rose looked up, pain etched in her eyes. “Of course it’s a shock. I’ve been praying he’d change before it got too late.”
Brinna bit her lip. “Let’s face it. The bottle has always been more important to him than us.”
Rose shook her head. “I’ve seen you show so much care and tenderness for children, strangers. Don’t you have any to spare for your father?”
“What do you want me to say?” Brinna bristled, thinking, All I’ve ever really known is an angry, drunk father. “For a short time he was a father to Brian, but he’s never been a father to me. Once he climbed into the bottle, he wasn’t much of anything.”
“That day destroyed him.” Rose choked back a sob. “He never forgave himself. Can’t you forgive him?”
She wiped her eyes with one hand and Brinna saw the struggle for composure. That day hung between them, and Brinna had no words.
“Unforgiveness will destroy you,” Rose said after a minute. She stood and hugged her arms to her chest. “The two of you are peas in a pod. He hides in a bottle and you hide in your job. Will you consider this from outside the safety of your uniform?”
Brinna blew out a breath and shook her head, choosing to ignore the peas-in-a-pod remark. I’m nothing like my father.
“I don’t blame Dad for my kidnapping. I never did. The only person to blame is the kidnapper. The only thing I blame Dad for is not being a dad.” She chugged her water and willed herself to stay seated. “What about Brian? Is he coming home?”
Regaining her composure, Rose crossed her arms. “He’s flying in this weekend. Will you at least come with him and visit your father?”
Brinna closed her eyes and sighed. “There’s so much going on in my life right now.” She opened her eyes to find Rose staring at her and felt slapped by the grief and pain reflected in the gaze. Guilt at the attempt to avoid her dad swelled, and she gave up. “When Brian gets here, I’ll go with him, okay?”
Rose nodded, then smoothed her blouse. “Thank you. It will mean a lot.”
* * *
Brinna sat on the porch for a long time after her mother left. Hero dozed at her feet. After trying to call Milo and getting his voice mail, she brought a tall glass of iced tea outside and relaxed in her rocker. Sleep was impossible now. Her mother could make her feel guilty and sappy all at the same time. But her thoughts revolved around the fact that her father was dying and she felt nothing.
34
“SO HOW ARE YOU DOING with O’Reilly?” Sergeant Rodriguez asked as Brinna and Hero jogged onto the K-9 training field early Wednesday afternoon. After Hero’s training ended, Brinna would go into service and finish out her shift.
Brinna shrugged. She’d anticipated the question and still struggled with how much to tell her sergeant. “So far, aside from the fact that neither one of us wanted the assignment, no problems. But it’s only been two days. Yesterday we were tied up with Heather all night. We haven’t gotten in much patrol time.”
“Sorry about Heather. Chuck told me what happened. He wants to keep it all under wraps as long as possible so no panic starts.”
“I agree with him to a point. I don’t want the investigation to be compromised, but I think parents need to know there’s a danger. This guy has already proved he’ll kill.” The fact that he chose to kill because of her was what galled her all the more.
Janet nodded. “Chuck said he’d meet with our homicide and talk about how to handle the press angle. He doesn’t want the press to sensationalize things and give the suspect who taunted you the attention he apparently wants.” She knelt down and patted Hero. “Besides, no one knows how releasing your connection to this taunt will affect all the shooting stories.”
“Tell me about it,” Brinna agreed grimly. “Shockley is doing her best to paint me as a little Hitler. She’ll probably try to pin Heather’s murder on me.”
“Not even Shockley could make that charge. Besides, the shooting review board will convene soon.”
“Really?” Brinna faced Janet as her stomach did flip-flops. “Have you heard something?”
“Just a rumor that the chief wants it to happen right away. He believes official findings will neutralize Shockley.”
“I hope so.” Brinna sighed and turned to the training field, but Janet stopped her.
“By the way, I got a memo from Officer Nugent. He wants me to write up a commendation for you.”
Brinna frowned; she rarely worked with the day patrol officer. “For what?”
“Apparently you pulled some guy out of a bathtub, saved his life.”
“The girlfriend beater? I just did what I had to do. It wasn’t heroic or anything. Anyone would have done it.”
Janet laughed. “I’m not sure about that.”
Brinna waved off the idea of a commendation. “What do you want me to do with O’Reilly tonight? I normally flex on Wednesdays and leave a little early. Today I’m really tired.”
“You think he’s up to working by himself? Klein tells me there’s no one else to put him with.”
Chewing on a thumbnail, Brinna considered what she’d debated all day telling Janet—that she feared Jack had a death wish. Jack would be yanked from patrol in a heartbeat. If she was wrong, she’d be doing him a huge disservice. But if she was right . . .
After a pause, she held Janet’s gaze. “I’m not sure. Like I said, we haven’t had much patrol time.”
“I’ll approve overtime if you want to finish out the shift.”
“If I don’t collapse, I will.” I’d rather be working instead of dealing with the circus that seems to be going on in my personal life, she thought grimly.
“Great. Let’s go train.”
For the next couple of hours, Brinna concentrated only on Hero, working hard to put her exhaustion, Heather, and her own father’s situation out of her mind. She ran her dog through an agility course, worked on some tracking drills, and let him run around with a few patrol dogs.
“He’s doing great,” Pops Davis, a senior K-9 officer, commented to Brinna as they watched Hero handle a timed run of the agility course.
Brinna beamed. Pops had been one of the strongest voices who fought Hero’s addition to the team tooth and nail. Very old-school, Pops’s objections were different from a lot of other officers’. Most just wanted the money to go elsewhere. Pops thought women were too soft to work with dogs. He’d hated the fact that Hero specialized in search and rescue. It felt great to win him over to her side.
“Thanks, Pops. Tha
t means a lot, coming from you.”
The grizzled old cop rubbed his chin. “I know I was rough on him at first, but he has more than pulled his weight. So have you. Some old dogs can learn new tricks.”
“Glad to hear it.” Brinna laughed, feeling a lightness she hadn’t felt in a long time. She showed Davis the stopwatch. “Hero just beat his best time on the course by fifteen seconds.”
Pops nodded approval and went back to his dog and bite training. Brinna gave Hero his treats and some water. Driving home to drop him off before her shift, she realized how much she missed working an entire shift with her four-legged friend. But she only had a week and a half left to go with O’Reilly.
A fear nagged. What if the circus surrounding the shooting hadn’t abated by then? That the brass wanted to hurry the shooting review board to counter Shockley’s shrill cries of misconduct was a small bright spot.
O’Reilly himself was another worry. What if he did want to take a bullet? She’d had the chance to address the issue yesterday at Hof’s but chickened out.
At home she fed Hero, then climbed back in her truck and headed for the station. Clear skies, pleasantly warm temps. Brinna glanced at the ocean. Now would be a great time for a long, long kayak paddle, way out in the middle of the ocean . . . away from phones, newspapers, money-hungry lawyers, and vicious child killers, she thought wistfully.
35
JACK SAT in the squad room listening to the banter going on around him without joining in. The topics of conversation were similar to ones that would have bounced around six years ago. Guys talked about last night’s difficult arrest, recounted funny incidents, or complained about something going on in the department.
He still felt like a fish out of water. But he’d slept so well—in spite of the fact that he hadn’t gotten to bed until 6 a.m.—that the memories didn’t seem to be screaming so loud. And Caruso’s drive to be a savior to every missing kid lingered in his thoughts. Even though he’d tried to make her feel corny, her mission impressed him. It made him yearn for the same kind of drive to return to him. Could he ever really be the same cop he’d been six years ago?
“O’Reilly.”
Jack raised his head when Klein called his name. “Sir?”
“Your partner called. She’s en route from K-9 training and she’ll meet you at the back steps.” Klein started to turn away, then stopped. “You and her getting along okay?”
Jack nodded and Klein left the room. He knew the sergeant would probably ask Brinna the same thing, and he wondered what she would say.
Well, the arrangement with Caruso wasn’t permanent. Sentencing or no sentencing, this partnership was only for another week and a half. Caruso might be an okay cop, with a lot of ambition he admired, but he didn’t have a reason to get close—and certainly no reason to care about her work or life. If she wanted to take every missing kid to heart, it was her funeral.
* * *
Brinna pulled into the PD lot and parked her truck. She’d left her Explorer at home, seeing no reason to drive it if she didn’t have Hero. She hoped O’Reilly at least thought to find them a good ride.
Her partner waited where she’d wanted to meet him. “I got us a car,” Jack said, stepping down to meet her. He pointed to a black-and-white.
“Great. Sorry I’m late. I didn’t factor in the time it would take to drop Hero off at home.”
“No biggie.” Jack climbed into the driver’s seat and popped the trunk.
Brinna stowed her kit and took the passenger seat. She noticed Jack already had the log-in screen filled out, and she pushed Send, hoping for a quiet radio. Let’s see if we get some patrol time in and how he handles it. What kind of patrol cop is he, anyway?
Sighing, Brinna couldn’t relax. She was just too tired. It wouldn’t do for the trainer to fall asleep on the trainee. Thinking about Jack as a trainee took her thoughts back to the night before. He’d been a partner for a bit. She wondered what mood he’d be in tonight and what she’d see—lifeless eyes or cop eyes.
“Did you sleep better today?” she asked.
Jack grunted. “Actually, I did. Slept until about two thirty. What about you? I hope you didn’t let that kid eat you up.”
“I just got a couple hours. Lots going on in my life right now besides Heather.” She rolled down her window and turned off the air conditioner vent. Though the fresh air was warm, it made her feel more alert.
Jack seemed to start to say something, then stopped. He slowed to standard patrol speed, and Brinna noted that his eyes were roving the street. The car stayed silent until the first radio call.
As they rolled through quiet residential streets, Brinna wondered if Jack would want to jump on anything. Technically, the driver ran the unit, deciding when to answer calls and when to make traffic or subject stops.
When the radio went quiet, guys had different ways of spending their free patrol time. Some liked to try and snoop, working known dope locations. Others liked to work traffic, and still others prowled streets and alleys checking for stolen cars or miscellaneous illegal activity.
Brinna knew she’d be checking out pedophiles from her Wall of Slime and going over every bit of Heather’s investigation. She’d faxed the list of names to Chuck, and he’d promised her he’d scrutinize each one. All she could do was wait for him to call, and Brinna hated waiting.
Jack drove through the roughest section of town, she noted. So he’s not afraid to work . . . or is it something else?
“Can I ask you a question?” Brinna decided not to put off a direct frontal approach any longer.
“What?”
“The other night, when you rushed the stolen car, were you trying to get yourself killed?”
Jack stomped the brakes, pulled the car to the right, and stopped at the curb. “Is that what you think?”
Brinna shrugged. “I’m just asking. Car wasn’t clear; kid could have had a gun. What should I think?”
“Have you run around telling everyone this theory of yours?” He turned to face her, left elbow up over the steering wheel.
“No. I’m the one working with you, so I’m asking for my information.” She held his angry gaze, trying to read his thoughts. She knew his concern. All she had to do was mention she thought he had a death wish and he’d be bounced to the department shrink and out of patrol.
Jack blew out a breath. “Maybe at first that thought crossed my mind. At the domestic violence call. I thought it might be easy to get shot out here. But the thought just crossed my mind; it didn’t take up residence.” He glared at her for a moment, then turned away.
She had the feeling he wasn’t finished, so she stayed quiet. After a minute he spoke again.
“As to the victor . . . well, I wanted a fight.” He faced forward and sat back in his seat. “I was angry, thinking about Bridges, the guy who killed my wife. I wanted to beat something or someone, pretend it was Bridges.”
Sighing, Brinna relaxed. “Okay. Thanks. That I can understand.”
“Can you?” Jack’s forehead scrunched. “Can you really understand? I fantasize about killing Bridges all the time.” He shifted in his seat and stared out the window.
“I fantasize about killing every creep who hurts a kid. Join the club.” She shrugged when he shot her a surprised expression.
They were both silent for a minute. Then Jack laughed. Brinna’s jaw went slack with shock. He rarely smiled, and this was the first laugh she’d heard.
“What’s funny?” she asked.
“You trying to tell me I’m normal.”
“I’m not a psychiatrist, so whether you’re normal or not is not my call. I just think we care. We hate to see injustice or the innocent taken advantage of. I consider myself a good judge of character. You worry me for a lot of reasons. That you’d take the law into your own hands is not one of them.”
He sighed and pulled back into traffic to resume patrol. “What makes you think I won’t act out on my fantasy and kill Bridges?”
Bri
nna shook her head. “Sad, burnt out, and hurt, you’re still a cop. It would completely wipe out sixteen years of being a good guy if you went after Bridges. I’d never act out on any of my fantasies because I have faith in the justice system, flawed as it is. Would your wife have married a man who would take the law into his own hands?”
36
JACK WORKED HARD to regain some semblance of patrol rhythm. Though his body was well rested, his emotions were all over the map. He felt like a drunk trying to walk a straight line. Brinna’s question about whether he had a death wish came out of the blue and hit him hard. Confessing to her that it wasn’t really his own death he wanted but Bridges’s surprised him.
For months I’ve thought of nothing else but taking care of Bridges. I’ve lived for the sentencing and a clear shot at him, he thought. Brinna didn’t think he would do what he fantasized about.
Just a little over a week until the day. He tightened his grip on the steering wheel, angry at the thought of Bridges’s future. It was like ripping the scab off a raw wound. Bridges had a future. And it galled Jack that Brinna was probably right. He didn’t think he could kill Bridges any more than she did. Vicki wouldn’t have looked twice at a man who acted like judge, jury, and executioner.
The realization freed him in a way. Maybe the scab was gone and the wound raw, but opening it let some poison out. The pressure had stopped building. Jack felt tension release in his neck and shoulders. It was as if a test deadline had just been removed from his day planner.
He decided to take a flying leap at letting the job consume him and run the unit like he would have six years ago. His partner was still a paradox to him. On one hand, he didn’t want to get close to Caruso. On the other, he had the feeling they could do some great work together.
He and Brinna made a few traffic stops, arrested a drunk driver, and Jack watched his uneasiness and anger evaporate. He was a cop again, and it felt great.
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