Worst Week Ever (A Long Road to Love)

by Liza O'Connor

  He grabbed his pants and tugged them on.

  “Something happen?” Dawn sat up, pulling her teddy over her firm breasts.

  He leaned over and kissed her. “Bomb. I may be short one master.” He grabbed his shirt and started out the door, then turned around, stealing one more kiss. “You working today? For me?”

  “Eight to close,” she stammered.

  “I’ll try to stop by. If I can’t, I’ll call you.”

  “Go!” she insisted.

  He got all the way to his car when he realized he’d left his gun and holster. He turned around and ran back to the building, crashing into a very familiar body in the lobby, wearing nothing but a robe and her teddy.

  She handed him a bag. “You forgot something.”

  He peeked into the bag to make she wasn’t sending him off with breakfast. Upon verifying his Glock nestled inside, he kissed Dawn, justifying the time wasted by the minute she saved him by retrieving his gun.

  “Go!” she insisted.

  He tugged her robe tight around her. Giving her one more quick kiss, he ran from the apartment lobby and jumped into the limo. He threw his ‘use only in emergency’ blue light on the top of the car and zoomed off, even as he dialed Joey’s number.

  Joey answered, “Yo, bro. I’m getting a promotion for catching the Brooklyn Rapist.”

  “Great. What do you know about the bomb?”

  “Sure you don’t want to be a cop? Because you seem to wanna solve crimes.”

  “Do you know anything or not?”

  “I’m at ground zero, waiting for the bomb squad to arrive. It’s not a conventional bomb. To be honest, it looks like they dropped file cabinets from a fifth story window of Lancaster Chairs.”

  “Shit, that’s my boss.”

  “Master Trent?”

  “Yeah. He and a young woman half his size should be somewhere about.”

  “We’ve pushed everyone back.”

  “Not these two you didn’t. I’ve got the blue light you gave me. I’m going to bully my way through. Will you cover me?”

  “Yeah, tell them you’re a UW specialist.”

  “Wanna tell me what UW stands for?”

  “Unorthodox weapons.”

  Sam laughed, even though he found nothing funny about the situation. Humor at inappropriate moments had kept them sane during the Iraq war when every inch of road they traveled could have been their last. Captain Mars had drummed into their heads to always watch each other’s back, which meant everyone in their squad came home alive. They still watched each other’s back.

  “Have you penetrated the building yet?”

  “No. We have to wait for the bomb squad.”

  “What exactly do you expect robots and dogs to do against falling file cabinets?”

  Joey laughed. “Other than thinking ‘Oh no, not again!’ as they get crushed? Not a thing.” However, we have protocols now. Common sense doesn’t even make the list anymore.”

  Sam loved the way cars moved to the side of the road to let him pass. Now if only the freak’n pedestrians would be so obliging. Ten blocks before his destination, he came to a road block with two police cars and four cops waving people off. One cop pointed at him and motioned him in, while two of the cops moved the plastic barrier so he could pass.

  “Thanks for the light by-the-way. These guys waved me straight through.”

  “We’ve got people flying in from all over the country. It’s a blue light special day.”

  “You need out-of-state experts for filing cabinets?”

  “Homeland security called them in. Evidently, our specialists aren’t good enough to inspect UWs.”

  Even with the blue light, Sam had to abandon his car and run the last three blocks. When he arrived, he stopped and took in the eerily desolate block. To see a street in bustling New York without a person on it chilled him to his bones.

  “You can’t be here, sir,” an officer barked.

  “I’m a UW expert.”

  “Bomb squad hasn’t cleared the scene yet. Can I see your ID?”

  Crap! Sam continued to search the area for his friend. The cop would arrest him if he didn’t come up with a distraction soon. “Do you know where Joey Pascal is?”

  His demeanor softened. “Joey? He’s handling…Never mind, he’s coming over.”

  Sam turned in the direction the cop pointed and smiled in relief. Joey ran the whole way. “Found my UW expert. Thanks, Frank.”

  The cop smiled. “Not a problem, Detective Pascal.”

  Joey smiled. “Don’t call me that ‘til it’s official. And don’t call me that afterward either. To you, I’m always Joey.”

  Joey grabbed Sam’s arm and led him to the barriers.

  Sam stared up at the building. “I’ve got to get inside.”

  “No, you don’t. I just talked to the guys who got here first. A young girl was wandering about, picking up papers in the bomb wreckage when a man wearing dark glasses, a wide-rimmed gangster hat, and some sort of white mask, grabbed her by the waist and pulled her away seconds before another file cabinet dropped.”

  Sam’s stomach roiled. “Are they okay? Can I see them?” While he’d never admit it to another soul, he was worried about the two dolts.

  “They weren’t harmed, but the cops arrested them both. Not sure why.”

  “Probably didn’t get along with ‘Master Trent’.”

  Joey chuckled. “Check Precinct 5. If they aren’t there, call around. Protocol doesn’t allow me to use my radio for unnecessary calls during a Level Red emergency.”

  “Red…Twin Towers was a Red. These are filing cabinets!”

  Joey shrugged. “Clearly someone overreacted, but I’m not breaking protocol and ruining my new promotion you worked so hard to get me.”

  Sam chuckled. “I better find Master Trent. He’ll no doubt want me to drive him home.”

  Chapter 16

  When Trent refused to speak without his attorney, the keystone cops tossed him into a jail cell with possibly the same people Sam almost ran down two days ago.

  He met their feral glares with his own, ready to take on any or all of them. In fact, he welcomed the chance to release the fury inside him. Seeing Carrie almost crushed by his file cabinet had traumatized him. Then idiots arrested him for saving her life—insanity! They should’ve stormed the building and shot the lunatics inside, but no, they attacked the hero of the day.

  “Yo man, what’s your deal?” a kid, who couldn’t have been more than sixteen, challenged.

  Trent pointed a finger at him. “Say one more word and I’ll rip you apart, limb from limb.”

  The coward ducked behind a huge man. Trent glared at the seven-foot giant, more than willing to take his rage out on the guy.

  The man raised two meaty paws in a gesture of non-aggression, so Trent turned his challenge to the other five men in the cell. They dropped their heads, refusing to make eye contact.

  With no one to fight, he paced his cage like an enraged lion. A justifiably enraged lion. What was Carrie thinking? A cabinet had come within seconds of flattening her.

  She knew how many file cabinets they had. Did she really think after tossing three cabinets, they would allow the other two to have a nice day in the office?

  He had no doubt all five had ended their useful lives on the sidewalk by now. Probably her chair, as well.

  So why in any rational world would the police arrest him for saving her life? It made no sense at all. And why did they keep going on about bombs?

  He’d saved his EA’s life. His lunatic employees had tossed cabinets from the window. However, his interrogator didn’t want to hear about any of that. They wanted to talk about bombs and his disguise.

  He blamed his gangster hat. Clearly, it triggered some negative reaction in policemen. No doubt their DNA carried a fear of the hats from coppers who’d battled Pretty Boyd Floyd and others gangsters.

  That’s what comes from the sons of cops becoming cops themselves. They genetic
ally pass down their fear of hats, causing them to behave in irrational ways. A law should prohibit multiple generations of a family going into law enforcement.

  An eternity of pacing later, a cop arrived, followed by Trent’s lawyer, David Sedita.

  “It’s about time!”

  The moment the jail door opened, Trent stormed out and passed his lawyer. He tried to leave the jail, but the door further down wouldn’t open, thus he had no choice but to wait for the jailer slowly meandering toward him.

  “How’s Carrie?” Trent asked his lawyer as they waited. No doubt frightened. Had to be. One moment she was picking up papers without a care in the world, the next, grabbed by the waist and slammed into a car.

  “Carrie?” David asked.

  Trent’s rage battered against his brain, trying to take control, but he couldn’t let it. If he did, he’d probably kill every person in this cellblock.

  “Yes, my EA.”

  His lawyer shook his head as if he had no clue who he meant.

  “When I finally received my one phone call, do you remember what I said?”

  “You said you’d been arrested and to get you out. Then you hung up without telling me the precinct, which meant I spent the next half-hour locating you.”

  “No! I said, ‘we’ve been arrested and get us out.”

  The guard finally arrived and took his sweet time opening the door. Trent glared at the man. “I’ll be sure to let my ninety-year old doorman know when he gets a little slower, he can apply for your job.”

  David yanked him by the arm and pulled him away from the jailor. “They haven’t dropped the charges. One wrong move and you’ll lose the bail I just worked so hard to get.”

  “I saved my EA’s life! How hard could it possibly be to get bail for saving a person’s life?”

  “That sounds like a delightfully simple task. Unfortunately, the serious list of crimes you’re facing didn’t mention saving a life,” David snapped.

  “I have no idea what the charges are. They clearly didn’t like my hat or the bandage on my broken nose, but to the best of my knowledge we don’t have style laws.” By his last comment, he was screaming in rage.

  David tightened his grip on Trent’s arm. “Will you use your inside voice?”

  “This is my inside voice. You have no idea how angry I am. To add to all the other stupidities of this day, I discover you failed to do your job. Now find my EA and get her released!”

  David stood rigid in quiet fury for a long moment. Trent expected him to quit but, to his surprise, the man turned and stormed into the police station’s inner sanctum.

  Sick of the place, Trent headed outside, hoping to God he could calm down once away from the police station.

  A gentle breeze tickled his skin and a bright sun warmed the faint chill of the day, but it didn’t calm his temper. Nothing would do that until he had Carrie safe in his arms. He only hoped when the moment came, he didn’t ring her neck for causing this debacle.

  Chapter 17

  Carrie’s interrogation baffled and frustrated her. Still, she remained calm and answered all their questions to the best of her ability.

  Even when they asked them twenty times.

  At one point, she almost suggested an improvement to the process, but then closed her mouth.

  “What?” Detective Collins leaned forward with the excitement of a dog expecting to snare its prey. She doubted her inquisitor would appreciate her desire to modify his interrogation process.

  “Nothing.”

  “It wasn’t ‘nothing’. You want to tell me something important, I could see it in your eyes. Just tell me. You’ll feel better if you do.” He reached across the table and touched her hand.

  She remained doubtful but gave it a try. “Perhaps if you return my iPad, I can write out the answers to the questions you guys keep asking. Then when you forget, you can refer to my answer.”

  He pulled his hand back and glared at her from narrowed eyes.

  “I’m sorry. Honestly, I don’t understand this process, which is why I stopped myself from suggesting this a few hours ago. You all seem very tired and even when I explain myself as clearly as I can, you don’t seem to hear what I say.”

  “Oh, I hear you.” He ran his fingers through his hair and stared up at the ceiling.

  “Do you at least agree we aren’t making very much progress here?”

  “That’s the understatement of the year.” Still staring at the ceiling, he massaged his temples.

  “Perhaps if you explained your process and goals, I could better help you reach them.”

  Just then, the door opened and a new policeman entered. “Jack, the chief wants me to take a shot.”

  “Great! Boy Wonder has arrived.” Jack shoved himself up with one angry thrust. “She’s all yours. I’d wish you luck, but I wouldn’t mean it.” He stormed out leaving her with a smiling, friendly-looking policeman. She knew from her day’s experience his happy demeanor wouldn’t last long.

  “Carrie, my name is Joey Pascal.”

  She stood and shook the hand he offered. “Carrie Hanson.”

  He motioned for her to sit and joined her at the table. “You look tired. Can I get you something to drink or eat? Do you need a bathroom break?”

  “Oh, yes, please.” Carrie had been trapped in this room for what felt like days.

  He chuckled. “Which?”

  “All three, but bathroom first. And if I only get one, I want the bathroom.”

  He stood up. “Let me grab a female police officer to escort you.”

  “Thank you so much!”

  For some inexplicable reason, the discussion of bathroom breaks changed her bladder status from near-bursting to bursting-now. By the time the policewoman opened the door and motioned her to follow, Carrie had to walk with tightly clenched legs, which unfortunately made her lag behind the pissed-off officer.

  “Pick it up. I do have other things to do than take uncooperative witnesses on bathroom breaks.”

  “Sorry. I understand your annoyance. I wouldn’t like it either if I had to stop working for such a stupid reason.”

  When Carrie entered the bathroom, she flew the last few feet, pulling down her slacks and panties along the way, doing a half turn mid-air and landing on the toilet just as a flood burst from her body.

  The cop spoke from outside the stall. “How long have you needed a bathroom?”

  “I don’t know…seems like forever.” She glanced at her watch. “Wow, I’ve only been here six hours. That can’t be right.” She tapped her watch.

  “You didn’t receive a bathroom break in six hours?”

  “Not until Officer Pascal just asked me if I needed one.”

  “Did you ask to take a break?”

  “No. I’ve never been arrested before and, honestly, I don’t understand the process. But since everyone gets mad at me five minutes into the questions, the timing never seemed right to ask for a break.”

  “You still peeing?”

  “Afraid so.”

  “In the future, when you’re arrested, ask for food, water and bathroom breaks as often as you need.”

  Carrie smiled as the flood ended and faded to a dying trickle. “Thanks, but I going to try really hard to avoid future arrests.” She exited the stall and washed her hands. “Next time I see a file cabinet being pushed from a five story window and people on the sidewalk below, ignoring my warning to clear the street, I’m not yelling bomb again.”

  The cop tensed. “You yelled bomb?”

  She grimaced. Now the cop looked pissed. “It got them off the sidewalk so no one died, but then when I called 911 and told the woman it wasn’t a bomb, but crazed employees tossing out my file cabinets, she wouldn’t believe me. Evidently, the people who heard my warning called in reports of bombs.”

  The moment Carrie turned off the water, the policewoman ushered her into the interrogation room and stormed out.

  “If someone would tell me the process, I would do this bett
er,” she grumbled.

  A few minutes later, Officer Pascal and the female officer entered the room. “Carrie this is Officer Jenson. She’s going to get your statement while I bring you food and drink.” He slid a menu over to her.

  Carrie found what she wanted, but didn’t have enough money for it. “Would either of you like to split an avocado, spinach, tomato, turkey on nine grain bread?”

  The policewoman smiled. “I will.”

  Pascal rolled his eyes. “One healthy sandwich to go. What about drinks?”

  “Do you have a water fountain? I only have enough money for my half of the sandwich.”

  “The meal’s on me,” he said.

  She shook her head. “Don’t waste your money. I’ve told the other officers the truth all day long.”

  “I plan to ask different questions. And my first question is—money aside—what do you want to drink?”

  Gosh, she liked him. “Green tea would be good.”

  “Coke for me,” Jensen said.

  After he left, the policewoman pulled out a tape recorder. “Mind if I record the conversation?”

  “Not at all! That’ll save you from asking me the same stuff over and over.”

  The policewoman smiled for a moment, then sobered. First, she read Carrie her Miranda rights. While Carrie had seen this on TV shows, she had yet to experience it even once today.

  “Do you wish to waive your right to an attorney?” Jenson asked as she checked off a box on the paper before her.

  “I don’t have an attorney.” Nor could she afford one right now.

  Jenson glanced up from her paperwork. “One can be appointed—no charge.”

  The price worked. “How long would that take?”

  Jenson sighed. “A Day or two.”

  But the timing sucked. “I really don’t wish to stay quite so long. I’m going with my gut which says you’re going to actually listen to what happened today.”

  Jenson snorted softly and smiled. “I am.”

  “Then I’ll go without a lawyer.”

  Jenson nodded her approval. “In your own words, tell me what happened.”