by Terri Reed
The flat of a hand on her back startled her and she jerked just as she was shoved hard, causing her to misstep and propelling her to the very edge of the platform. She lost her balance, her arms windmilling.
Terror ripped a desperate scream from her as she plummeted off the platform and onto the tracks.
* * *
A woman’s scream punctuated the air, loud gasps from the surrounding crowd following. Horror stole Carter’s breath as Rachelle disappeared over the edge of the platform onto the subway tracks.
His heart jumped into his throat, galvanizing him into action. He pushed through the terrified crowd as he called into Dispatch asking for backup and for the incoming train to be notified there was a civilian on the tracks. He prayed the message would be relayed to the conductor in time to stop the train short.
Pedestrians yelled and urged Rachelle to get up. She appeared dazed as she pushed to her knees. Smears of grease and dirt marred her skirt and blouse. Shoving back her loose hair, she lifted her frightened gaze as if looking for help.
Frosty’s frantic barking echoed off the tile and cement. Agitated, the dog paced the edge of the platform. Carter held tight to his lead, afraid the dog would jump onto the tracks to help save Rachelle.
The train wasn’t far down the track. He could hear the strident squeal of the rails echoing down the tunnel. There wasn’t time for her to climb back onto the platform.
He didn’t think there was even time for her to run to the other end of the platform where there was a four-step ladder.
Only one option provided a hope of survival.
He knelt down and cupped his mouth to shout, “Lie down between the rails.”
For a heartbeat, she blinked up at him as if trying to discern his words.
A gust of wind tore down the tunnel, whipping her hair in front of her face and plastering her skirt to her legs. The approaching train would arrive any second. “Hurry! Lie down. Cover your head!”
In a flurry of movement, Rachelle scrambled to do as directed. She lay prone between the inside tracks, her face tucked into the crook of her elbow.
Even if the train didn’t hit her, there was no guarantee the equipment hanging down from the undercarriage wouldn’t cause injury.
Nausea roiled through his gut as he pushed to his feet and lifted a prayer for this woman’s safety. “Please, God.”
* * *
Rachelle squeezed her eyes tight. Her heart hammered in her chest. She covered her head with her purse, thankful it hadn’t flown off her body in the fall, and fought to lie as still and flat as possible.
If she survived this...
No! She would survive this—she’d be headline news. And could write about the fast-thinking officer who helped her stay alive.
The loud squeal of the rails shuddered through her. Her body tensed.
“Please, Lord. Please, Lord.” She repeated the refrain over and over.
* * *
The sight of the incoming train filled Carter with terror. He waved his arms over his head, hoping to grab the train engineer’s attention. Others joined in.
The sound of people crying mixed with the screech of the brakes as the train decelerated and came to a jerking halt within inches of Rachelle’s feet.
A cheer broke out.
Sweat soaked Carter’s back beneath his uniform and flak vest. “Thank you, Jesus.”
To Frosty, he commanded, “Stay.”
He dropped the dog’s lead and then jumped down onto the tracks, careful to avoid the third rail, which supplied live electrical power for the subway to run efficiently. It was exposed and extremely dangerous. He hurried to gather Rachelle into his arms and lifted her off the ground. Her arms encircled his neck and she buried her face in his shoulder. Her body trembled. Shock, no doubt.
“You’re okay,” he assured her.
He carried her to the end of the platform. Several people rushed to help her up the stairs.
“My notebook and pen!”
Carter rolled his eyes at her priorities but quickly grabbed her items before climbing up the ladder behind her.
Rachelle’s pretty brown eyes were wide, the pupils dilated. She wobbled on her pumps and gripped his arm. “Thank you. That was really close.”
Tell me about it. “You’re going to be okay.”
He slid an arm around her waist and led her to the bench against the wall. He squatted down beside her, setting her notebook and pen on the bench.
Frosty put his chin on her knee. She stroked the dog behind the ears with one hand and placed her other hand protectively over her notebook.
“What happened?” Carter asked.
Her lips trembled. “Someone pushed me.”
Shock reverberated through him. The platform was now a crime scene. He radioed in this new development.
“That’s right. I saw the whole thing.” An older gentleman stepped forward. “Guy wore a gray T-shirt, baseball hat and sunglasses. He had brown hair, medium height.”
Carter rose and searched the pressing crowd. “Can you point him out?”
“As soon as he pushed her, the guy ran up the stairs,” the older man told him. “I heard him say, ‘You’re getting too close.’”
“I heard him say that, too.” A young woman wearing a walkathon T-shirt stepped forward. “I saw him put his hand on her back and push.”
Carter’s gaze snapped back to Rachelle. “Why would someone want to hurt you?”
She tucked in her chin. “You think I was targeted?” Something flashed in her eyes, some thought that made her frown, but then she shook her head. “No. It was crowded. He probably got claustrophobic. It had to have been a random act.”
Carter wasn’t sure what to think. He didn’t have time to question her further as other police officers and paramedics flooded the platform. He greeted the officers, explained the situation and let them interview the witnesses. Carter would write up his statement when he returned to his home station in Queens.
The medical personnel fussed over Rachelle. She waved them away. “I’m fine. Nothing is broken. Nothing’s twisted. I’ll have some bruises, but you can’t help with that.”
Carter touched her shoulder. He’d already noted the scrapes on her hands and the smudges on her knees. She’d dropped four feet onto hard concrete. “Let them do their jobs.”
She huffed out a sigh and tucked her notebook and pen into her purse. “I’ve taken worse falls. My parents have a grand oak that rises a hundred feet in the air. I’ve fallen out of it more times than I can count. This was barely a tumble.”
Her words were saying one thing, but her body was shaking beneath his hand. “Humor me.”
Her lips pressed together, and she nodded. The EMTs checked her vitals, assessed her limbs for injury. They declared her okay but told her to rest and put ice on her knees.
When the paramedics retreated, she rose from the bench, straightened her dirt-smudged skirt and squared her shoulders. Looking him in the eye, she said, “What I would like to do is interview those witnesses, then get on with our interview.”
She had gumption, he’d give her that. He admired that she wasn’t rushing out of the subway system scared as a rabbit. Most people would be anxious to escape the area after experiencing something as traumatic as being pushed into the path of a subway train.
Who had pushed her? And why?
Random? Or a targeted attempt on her life?
TWO
“We’re heading back to our unit’s headquarters in Queens,” Carter said to Rachelle as he reined her in from questioning the witnesses.
He was determined to discover the truth about why someone would want to harm her, which meant he needed to keep her close and grill her about the incident. “Come along with us.”
“Wonderful. I live not far from there. Do you think I could get a tour of the
station?”
“I’m sure that can be arranged.” Carter looked down at Frosty, who stared at him with trusting eyes. “All right, partner, let’s head out.”
The dog’s ears perked up, his tail thumped once and then he stood. The crowd had thankfully thinned. Yet, Carter couldn’t shake the stress of seeing Rachelle tumbling off the platform onto the tracks.
“Let’s go aboveground where we can hail a taxi.”
“You don’t have a vehicle?”
“I do, but parking in the city is nearly impossible for any length of time.”
“Would you normally travel back to Queens via a cab?” she asked, her intelligent eyes studying him.
“No. Part of our job with the transit bureau is to ride the subway,” he told her. “But we can take a cab today.”
She shook her head. “Not on my account. I’d rather you do as you normally would. It would be better for my story.”
Grudgingly, he respected her dedication. He shrugged. “Suit yourself.”
They walked to the platform for the downtown train and stood behind the yellow painted barrier.
He doubted Rachelle realized he’d slowed his pace to keep her within reach so he could grab her and protect her at the first sign of danger. Coming from a family with a long line of police officers, protecting others was built into his DNA.
His cell phone rang. The caller ID announced his brother Noah. Again. Two calls in one shift? Carter quelled the spike in his pulse. Noah had offered to watch Carter’s daughter, Ellie, on his day off because their parents were unavailable.
Keeping an alert eye on those around them, he pressed the button. “Hey, just about to leave the city. Your reporter friend has asked for a tour of the station.” Carter glanced at Rachelle, watching her scribble in her flowered notebook.
Noah chuckled. “Not my friend, pal. But I’m glad you’re not complaining.”
“That will happen later. It’s been exciting so far.” Traumatic would be a better descriptor but Carter would save the story for when he saw Noah.
“Well, you can start complaining now. I’ve been called into headquarters. My day off is over, and my babysitting time is up.”
Hope flared. “News on Jordy’s killer?”
Rachelle’s gaze snapped to his. Carter saw the curious gleam in her eyes. Reporter, remember! He couldn’t let his guard down around her. He’d learned the hard way the media only wanted the sensational and twisted the truth to meet their own narrative.
Noah sighed. “No. Nothing to do with the case.”
Disappointment curdled the hope.
“You’ll need to come directly home,” Noah continued. “Mom and Pop aren’t back from Fire Island yet.”
“Is Zach around?” Even though his youngest brother had married and moved out, he came around the family home often. His brothers took turns babysitting Carter’s six-year-old when their mom and dad were not available.
“On patrol this evening. And Katie’s not feeling well.”
Katie, Jordan’s widow, was five months pregnant. Carter’s heart ached knowing his oldest sibling would never get to hold his child, watch his child take his or her first steps, or hear the sweet voice of his own kid calling him Daddy.
Carter cleared his throat before he could speak. “Why don’t you bring the munchkin to the station house. I’ll grab her there.”
“Will do.” Noah hung up.
Rachelle raised an eyebrow. “Everything okay?”
“Yes.” He was saved from having to explain further by the arrival of the train. “Here we go.”
They boarded a middle car. As usual, he and Frosty were greeted with a mix of nervous glances and stiffened spines or open interest. Carter gestured for Rachelle to take a seat near the car’s end door. He and Frosty stood guard.
Until he was satisfied that the attempt on Rachelle’s life had truly been a random act of violence, he planned to unearth all he could about the pretty reporter and what she might be working on that would put her life in danger.
* * *
Rachelle kept her gaze on Carter as the subway train zoomed down the track. The rhythmic noise of the rails brought back the memory of the train bearing down on her. A shudder ripped through her, setting off a maelstrom of pain from the many bumps and bruises the fall caused. She forced the horrific images of what had happened earlier away. However, the fear lingered. She’d probably have nightmares tonight.
Or dreams of strong arms, making her feel safe and secure, lifting her from the train tracks while the thunderous applause from the crowd and the bark of the world’s cutest dog rang in her ears.
She pushed the thought aside, too. It was fine she found Carter good-looking and she was grateful for his rescue, but she wasn’t looking for anything more from him than a source that would provide her a front-page story to bring justice to the world.
Or, at least, justice for his brother.
And earn her notice from prestigious news outlets.
Consciously redirecting her mind to the phone call Carter had received, curiosity burned through her veins like a wildfire. She wanted to know more about Chief Jordan Jameson’s murder. But the look of disappointment on Carter’s face had let her know the call hadn’t been about the investigation. “Who’s ‘the munchkin’?”
Carter folded his arms over his chest. “My daughter.”
Ah. A call from the wife. Why would he be asking his spouse about Jordan’s murder? “Is your wife in law enforcement, also?”
His jaw hardened. He kept his gaze forward this time. Not even looking at her. His Adam’s apple bobbed. For a long moment he stayed silent, his expression unreadable and she feared she’d just overstepped with her question.
“I’m a widower.” His voice came at her low and sharp.
Her heart clenched. Had his wife died in the line of duty? An innocent bystander? Or an illness? Or some other horrible death? It was too much to bear thinking about. She went back to her earlier question. Munchkin was his daughter. “How old is she? Your daughter,” she clarified.
“Six.”
“That must be hard. Raising a child on your own. How old was she when her mother passed?”
He shifted his stance, tucking his hands behind his back and widening his feet. “These are not questions I choose to answer in this venue.”
Properly chastised, she folded her hands over her notebook in her lap. Yes, this wasn’t the place to ask about his personal life. Too many ears, too many eyes and too many unknowns. “Of course. Forgive me.”
He remained silent, but his chin dipped slightly.
Rachelle would take the slight movement as forgiveness from a guy like Officer Carter Jameson any day of the week.
She glanced warily around the subway car. Several people were clearly nervous to have an officer and K-9 on board. It was a diverse group of individuals. Some were clearly families heading home from a day in the city. Others obviously were tourists, with cameras around their necks or holding subway maps in their hands. The rest of the passengers most likely were workers getting off from their city jobs, possibly heading home to one of the other boroughs where it wasn’t so expensive to live.
She found herself looking for a man in a gray T-shirt and baseball hat with brown hair, of medium height. None fit that description in the car. Could the incident on the subway platform have been related to her investigation into Jordan Jameson’s murder? She suppressed a shiver of dread.
A casual glance at Carter found him watching her with his inscrutable gaze. Unperturbed, she met his gaze fully and assessed him as he assessed her. This was a man who was used to intimidating others. With nothing more than a stony stare, a formidable stance and a big dog.
She’d learned a lot in the last year since moving to New York City. Who to stay away from, who might cause trouble and that at any moment some celebrity, thinki
ng they were incognito, could appear right next to her on a subway car, a street corner or in a restaurant. Carter wouldn’t be looking for celebrities. He’d be looking for the ones who were doing bad things.
Like the guy who’d pushed her off the platform. She knew to keep her eyes open and sharp. The fact that she’d failed to notice the danger really irked her. She should never have allowed herself to get close enough to the edge to be pushed off. Normally, she stayed back until the train came to a stop. The only explanation had to be she’d been too focused on Carter.
When the subway train pulled into the next station, Carter and Frosty moved to stand near the opening doors. The dog sat at Carter’s heels, his nose twitching at everyone who came in and out of the car.
“How did you come up with the name Frosty?” she asked him.
Carter glanced over his shoulder at her and arched an eyebrow.
Raising her hands in acknowledgment that she’d received the message—not here, not now—she opened her notebook and added more questions to her growing list. She kept her mouth closed for the remainder of the ride but couldn’t help the impatient bounce of her foot as the subway car rolled along.
She was glad when they finally switched trains to head out of Manhattan to the borough of Queens.
As they exited the subway car, Rachelle was sure she heard several sighs of relief. She didn’t understand why the dog and officer made people so anxious. Carter and Frosty were there to serve and protect. Yes, the police in general seemed to have a bad rap in the media over the last few years. And she wasn’t naive—she knew there could be bad apples on any tree. But the NYC K-9 Command Unit had, until recently, a really good reputation.
However, people were losing confidence that the K-9 Unit could solve their own chief’s murder, let alone any other crime. After five months with no answers, she had to admit she was frustrated, too. Which in part was what had prompted her to begin her own investigation.