A memory flashed. When they were teens, she’d walked in on him messing with the drawer to his desk in his bedroom. When she asked him what he was doing, he’d dropped the key to the chest he kept stuff in and yelled at her to get out of his room and quit being such a snoop.
Izzy pulled the desk drawer open once more and examined both sides and the bottom. Nothing.
Not ready to give up hope yet, she did the same with every drawer in the small cubicle.
And nothing.
“Grrrr.” She wanted to slam her fist on the desk, but restrained herself. No need to draw attention to herself.
And he wouldn’t be that obvious.
Izzy let her eyes drift to his partner’s desk. Would he? Maybe.
She moved to Jasmine’s chair and hesitated. Technically, she supposed her actions could be considered trespassing. Then again, her brother’s life might be in danger and she needed to act to help him. At least that would be her argument should she get caught. Footsteps sounded outside the cubicle, right behind the chair, and she froze, even though she knew no one could see her.
Hurry up.
Izzy checked the first drawer, then the second. On the next to the last drawer, she struck gold in the form of a little key that looked like it might fit a filing cabinet. She hoped.
Quickly, aware that the more time she spent in the building, the more chances of someone recognizing her, she moved back to Derek’s side of the cubicle and inserted the key in the cabinet.
Bingo. The lock popped.
“Thank you, Jesus,” she breathed.
“You found it?”
She jerked at the voice in her ear. “Sheesh, Ryan. You scared me to death. You’ve been so quiet, I almost forgot you were there.”
“Just keeping an eye on things. I didn’t want my talking to you to distract you. It’s pretty quiet around here tonight.”
“Quiet out there, maybe. I keep feeling like all eyes are on me. It’s unnerving.”
“You’d make a lousy criminal.”
“Good thing I never had dreams of being one,” she whispered.
Pulling open the drawer, she looked over her shoulder.
With no one watching, Izzy quickly scanned the tabs on the folders. Alphabetical order. At least Derek had good organizational skills.
In no time at all, she had the “Ops Plan” folder on the desk and open. Her eyes fell on the first one in the stack. She remembered this case—and she remembered Derek talking about closing it. It had been over four weeks ago and he’d been particularly happy about being a part of the raid that rescued several human trafficking victims.
But there was nothing else to indicate that he’d started a new assignment.
“Find anything?”
“No.”
“Billy McGrath just walked in.”
Billy and Derek were good friends and he was often at her parents’ house for Sunday dinner. “Okay. I’m almost finished. I found the ops file, but there’s nothing to indicate that he was working a new assignment.”
“Nothing at all?”
She looked through the rest of the pages just in case he’d accidentally slipped it in the wrong place, but found nothing.
“Nothing, Ryan. So is he undercover or not?”
The file indicated not. Her mother said he wasn’t. So … was Derek lying? Or … what?
Frustration clawed at her. She texted him.
Please call me or text me or something. I need to talk to you.
“You probably need to get on out of there. Justine Clements is heading toward the front door.”
Justine, a good friend of Chloe’s and one who would recognize Izzy—and make a point to talk to her. She had to get out of there.
She replaced the file in the cabinet and shut the drawer. When she turned, she jerked. An officer was standing there watching her.
“Hey.” The word tumbled from Izzy’s lips and, to her relief, sounded normal, not strangled or nervous like she felt.
“Hey. What are you doing here? This is Derek’s office.”
“I know. I’m looking for something, but I think he’s sent me on a wild-goose chase.” Not an outright lie. She kept her shoulder turned to keep the woman from being able to read her name badge. She’d thought about leaving the badge off, but that would have snagged attention.
The woman laughed. “He’s got you running errands for him too, huh?”
“You know him well,” Izzy said, keeping her tone droll.
“Indeed. I’m Brenda.” She looked expectantly at Izzy.
“Isabelle.” Izzy wasn’t going to lie. Not when it could come back to bite her that she’d been there.
“Nice to meet you. You don’t work out of this office, do you?”
“No, I’m at the Metro region, but Derek …” She rolled her eyes and Brenda laughed.
“Don’t fall for him. He’s a heartbreaker.”
“No kidding.”
Brenda shrugged. “Anything I can help you with?”
“Nope.” Izzy opened the bottom drawer of Derek’s desk and pulled out a yellow notepad she’d seen earlier in her search. Derek’s practically illegible handwriting covered the page. “I think this will do it.”
“You must be a good friend.”
“I am.” If she could get away with not revealing the nature of her relationship with Derek, she would. She stood. “Well, I guess I’d better get out of here.”
“Sure. See you around.”
“You handled that well,” Ryan said. “Now hop to it before you run into Justine or Billy.”
Izzy kept her silence and waited until Brenda left before replacing the notepad and the key. She started to step out of the cubicle, but stopped when she heard voices that sounded like they were right next to her.
“… get the numbers for the meeting,” someone said.
“Jasmine has them,” Justine said. “I’ll get them from her.”
Izzy froze.
“Is she here?” the first person asked.
“Not tonight, but she usually leaves them on her desk if someone wants to review them beforehand.”
“Good, grab them for me, will you?”
“Sure.”
If Justine walked in while Izzy was there, she was going to have some explaining to do.
The two officers continued the conversation while Izzy listened, trying to figure out the best move. They were to her right. She could possibly slip out and around to the left without being seen if she hurried.
Quickly, Izzy rounded the edge of the cubicle and breathed a short-lived sigh of relief. When she looked toward the door, Billy McGrath was leaning against the desk, talking to the guy who manned the phones.
Izzy blew out a breath. “I can’t get out the door. Billy’s talking to the guy behind the desk.”
“Of course he is. Hold tight.”
Feeling conspicuous just standing there, Izzy walked toward the hallway that held the restrooms. She kept her head down and her eyes cut toward the desk. She stopped when the guy behind the desk picked up the phone. Billy waited a few seconds, then waved and walked off.
Right toward her.
She veered right and slipped behind the next row of cubicles, her blood pumping harder. Weaving her way through the maze of cubicles, her attention fixed on her phone, she made her way back around to the front of the building.
Billy was gone.
She kept her stride steady and even, not hurrying, but giving the impression she was headed somewhere and didn’t have time to stop and chat. “On the way out,” she murmured.
“The front is clear,” Ryan responded.
And then she was walking down the front steps and over to the vehicle where Ryan waited.
Izzy climbed into the passenger’s seat and shut the door. She lowered her head to the glove compartment and Ryan knew her adrenaline was flying. He waited in silence for a full minute, then said, “You’re a natural. Have you ever thought about undercover work?”
“A natural? M
y heart is about to pound right out of my chest.”
“Of course it is.”
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”
“A bit, now that I’m not worried to death about you getting caught.” He turned serious. “What did you find out?”
“Exactly what I told you. That if Derek is doing undercover work, it’s not an assignment from his supervisor. At least not one that’s on paper.”
“He could be doing something on his own.”
“He could. And if he hadn’t shot that guy, I wouldn’t think twice about keeping my mouth shut. But … the shooting …”
“Yeah. So what are you going to do now?”
“Write my supplemental report—and think.”
“About?”
“How to tell Derek that his twenty-four hours have come and gone—and how to tell Kevin goodbye tomorrow.”
Sunday
20
The day of the funeral dawned overcast and gloomy. A match to Izzy’s mood. This was wrong on so many levels. Wrong … and yet fitting in an extremely odd way. Wrong that they were even having a funeral and fitting because Kevin had loved church, and even sang on the praise team when he was off duty. That praise team would sing for him today.
She was thankful she’d gone to church yesterday. It would’ve been too hard to concentrate if she’d gone to this morning’s service. She dressed in her officer blues and used the lint roller to make sure there wasn’t a speck of dirt on any part of the uniform.
Ironically, the uniform she now had on and one other had been at the cleaners the night of the fire. Her closet had suffered smoke and water damage, but her clothes had survived. They were now all at the same cleaners she’d picked up the two uniforms from. Until then, Chloe would ensure she didn’t go without.
Izzy made sure she had tissues tucked into a pocket, then adjusted the empty holster on her hip. A quick glance at her phone showed she still hadn’t missed a return call from Louis. She was worried about him.
“Ready?” Chloe stood behind her with Hank at her side.
“No. I want to stay in bed with the covers over my head.”
“Yeah, make that two of us.” Chloe paused. “Any nightmares?”
“Yes.”
“I thought I heard you crying out in your sleep.”
Izzy nodded. “I woke myself up.”
“What were you dreaming about?”
“You mean which nightmare was triggered?”
“Yes.”
“Mick. And the Hulk. They kept coming at me from every direction, shooting flames from their tongues and wrapping their claw-like hands around my throat.” She touched the area under her chin. “What is it with guys who do that?”
“They’re twisted somehow—or they lose control and regret it later. Or they don’t regret it. As you know, some don’t. But it sounds to me like you’ve been reading too much fantasy.”
She thought about the latest novel she’d been in the midst of. Ronie Kendig’s Embers. Somehow the fact that it had gone up in flames, along with the end table it had been sitting on, didn’t amuse her, and no one had better point out the irony between the title and the way it had met its end. “I wish that’s all it was.” Izzy shut her eyes against the images, the remembered fear. She’d been held down and helpless, just like when Mick had—
“But it was just a dream.” She said the words out loud and hoped they’d take root in her brain.
Chloe grimaced. “The Hulk?”
“The guy who almost killed me in the parking garage the other day.” And the guy who’d stolen her phone. He must have taken it, hoping it was Kevin’s. It was the only reason she could come up with.
“The one who threw you over the edge?”
“Dangled. He dangled me.” She waved a hand in dismissal of that topic. “Anyway, he was huge. His name’s Lamar Young and he’s a cop killer.” She couldn’t believe he still wasn’t in custody.
“Oh.”
“He and Mick are running neck and neck for who wins as the most terrifying in my dreams at this point.”
“You haven’t heard from Mick, have you?”
“No. He’s obeying the restraining order.”
“But?”
Sadness curled inside her, even as she offered her sister a small smile. “You know me so well.”
“But?”
Izzy turned to finish getting ready. “But I’m tempted to check up on him and make sure he’s not terrorizing some other poor susceptible woman.”
“He’s not.”
Izzy raised a brow. “Really? You want to tell me how you know that?”
“I keep tabs on him. When he walked out of the hospital, I was there to make sure he knew he was being watched.”
“Chloe—”
“What?”
“Don’t try to look all innocent. You really did that?”
Chloe offered her a small, mysterious smile. “Yeah.”
Izzy shook her head. “As much as I want to deny it, there’s some small part of me that wants to see him again.”
“Have you completely lost it?”
“Maybe.” She shrugged. “I think sometimes we let our fears build to a point where they’re bigger in our minds than in reality. I think that’s what I’ve done with Mick.”
“Iz, he kidnapped you and held you against your will. With a knife at your throat.”
“I know. Then ended up sobbing on my shoulder, telling me how sorry he was and how he never meant to hurt me, he just couldn’t stand the thought of losing me.”
“Are you regretting how it ended?”
“What? Me recommending psychiatric help instead of prison?”
“Yeah.”
“No, I don’t regret it.” She grabbed a tube of waterproof mascara and applied it. “I really believe it was the right decision.”
“But?”
“But Gabby came and said Mick wanted to talk to me. To apologize.”
“No way.”
Izzy turned and met her sister’s wide-eyed look. “Yes, way.”
“That’s not an option.”
“Of course it’s an option. I think I’m going to have to talk to him at some point—so we can both have closure.”
Chloe’s lips settled into a frown. “No, you’re not. There’s no need for closure.”
“Maybe not for you, but I might need it.”
Her sister sighed. “You’re so stubborn.”
“It’s a family trait.”
“And I don’t want to talk about this right now.”
“Good. I don’t either.” Izzy picked up the weapon the department had replaced for her that Ryan had delivered early this morning. She slid it into her holster and steeled herself. “I’m ready.” The truth was, she’d never be ready for Kevin’s funeral. “Let’s go.”
Dread welled. The desire to run away and never look back gripped her. She snagged her hat, placed it just right on her head, and took one last look in the mirror. Time to go.
Chloe let Hank into the back in his area and Izzy climbed into the front passenger seat. Chloe drove to the funeral with an officer in front of her and one behind. Izzy frowned. Her mother was going overboard and playing favorites with the radical amount of protection. That didn’t sit well with her, and she planned to address it as soon as possible, because if she noticed it, others would as well.
While there’d been no more attempts on her life, she’d been surrounded by cops practically 24/7. She wasn’t holding her breath that Hulk had given up. No, she had a feeling he was just biding his time.
The church came into sight and Izzy broke into a sweat. Please, God, get me through this without a complete breakdown. She felt selfish praying for herself when Kevin’s family was completely shattered. And be with the Marshalls. Give them your supernatural peace and comfort. Please.
The line of police cars wrapped around the block. Officers had turned out in droves to say goodbye to one of their own and to show their support for the grieving family. C
hloe parked and Izzy climbed out of the Tahoe.
Her gaze landed on her mother talking to Mayor Cotterill and she saw Melissa Endicott hovering in the background with Felicia Denning. The deputy chief looked right at home in front of the cameras, appearing concerned and nodding in agreement with whatever Melissa was saying. Gabby stood just behind them. Always present, but rarely visible. She met her friend’s eyes and lifted a hand in acknowledgment. Gabby offered a slight nod, then turned her attention back to her boss.
Izzy wasn’t sure whether to be impressed or disgusted at Endicott’s determination to put herself in the spotlight. The election was two days away and the woman was going to milk every opportunity that came her way for positive exposure.
The animosity she felt toward Endicott didn’t really make sense, as she’d only met her a handful of times, but she just didn’t come across as sincere. Or maybe it was just that she was trying too hard to say all the right things.
Which is what one did when running for office. It was politics, right?
Maybe she meant every word she said and was simply out to make the city a better place and Izzy was prejudiced in her love for the current mayor.
Even though she had to admit she was afraid he wasn’t going to win the election. It had been neck and neck in the beginning, but Mayor Cotterill had seemed to lose his steam halfway through the process.
And Melissa Endicott had a lot going for her with her military background and law enforcement experience. Add in the fact that she was the quintessential politician, charming and eloquent, with a dry sense of humor that drew people to her, and yeah … Mayor Cotterill didn’t look so great in comparison.
He stood just a couple of feet from her, looking worn and tired, talking with several officers whose somber expressions and red eyes gave testament to their love for their fallen friend.
With her throat growing tight at the thought, Izzy let her gaze slide from the officers, to the two women still talking, to the rest of the commotion surrounding the church. Television crews were set up, each one vying for the best angle of the front door. After all, that’s where the coffin would roll. Disgust for more than just politics churned in her stomach.
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