“What the fuck is this, a party? Why wasn’t I invited?” Snake-Eye looked around the shop. “I wouldn’t mind a little fun.”
“Get the fuck out of here, mister, if you want to live to see another day. This is between me and the bitch.”
“Hey, I don’t care what you do. I don’t even blame you. The stupid bitch is too dumb to count. She shorted me on my last order. Let me pick it up, and I’ll be on my way. I can’t afford to let the police know I was here. What’d she do to you, anyway?”
“She tried to run off on me. Took the kid and hid out.”
“Well, no wonder. She deserves anything you give her.”
Cara was barely standing. Her face was bloody and one arm was hanging crooked. “It looks like you’ve already tuned her up pretty good. Don’t know why you want her, she’s all sticks and bone, but you can’t let them get away with something like that.”
That was all Adam needed, a third person to keep track of. Someone to get Trevor more agitated.
Trevor nodded and shook Cara’s arm. “You’re right. Whatever happens to her, it’s her own fault. At least somebody understands.”
Snake-Eye turned to Adam. “You owe me a box of .45 caliber ammo. You shorted me one box.”
Adam didn’t move and Snake-Eye pointed to the wall behind him. “It’s right there on the shelf.”
He looked at Trevor. “Don’t do nothing till I’m out of here. I’ve got enough troubles of my own.” He waited while Adam handed him the box. “Good day, all. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” he said, and gave the cackle Adam remembered from two days before.
At least they were back to two. Adam slid closer to the register.
Snake-Eye gave Trevor a salute with the box of ammo. Then, just as he passed, he pirouetted on one foot and slammed Trevor in the back of the head with the box of bullets. Trevor went down like a puppet with the strings cut.
Adam vaulted over the counter, gun in hand, but caught his big toe on the edge of the cash register, causing shockwaves of pain to shoot up his leg before landing. He limped to Trevor’s body and knocked the gun away with his injured foot. “Son of a bitch!” he yelled, hopping on one foot and trying to hold the other.
“What were you planning to do, dick-head?” Snake-Eye kicked Trevor in the ribs. “Wait for him to die of old age? Or were you going to let him keep hitting her until his arm got tired?”
Adam didn’t answer, but handed Snake-Eye the pistol. “Keep this on him for a minute. And quit kicking him. I’ll have to explain every bruise.”
Cara had fallen when Trevor let go of her, but managed to stand again. She hobbled over to Trevor’s body and kicked him on the other side. “Good. You can blame them all on me,” she said, and kicked him again.
In the back room, Adam grabbed the baby blanket and started ripping it apart with his teeth. He tied Trevor’s hands tightly with strips of blanket.
Snake-Eye paced nervously around Trevor’s body. “There’s no way I’m getting mixed up in this. I can’t afford to answer any cop questions. Keep my name out of it. I didn’t show up.” He looked Adam up and down, taking in his disheveled appearance and lack of shoes. “Adam, huh? I guess there’s no mathematics for taste.”
Adam yanked the gun from Snake-Eye. “If you don’t want to be involved, you better head out now. Jillian was using my radio to call for help.”
He turned to Cara. The pain was such his breath came in short gasps and he held his toe off the ground. “Can you keep him out of this? You’d have to promise never to mention his name. Forget he was here. You can say you passed out and it was all over when you came to. Anything Trevor says after that blow to the head will be suspect.”
Cara looked from Adam to Snake-Eye and back again. “I’ll never tell a soul exactly what happened, but I’ll never forget it either.”
She stared at Adam. “What about you? Can you lie to your fellow officers?”
Jillian craned her neck toward the store. She’d go crazy if she didn’t find out what was happening. “Heather, can you see what’s going on? Is there any way you can help?”
“I’m not going in the store. You know that. And I can’t see in there. I don’t believe anybody’s been killed, though. I think I would feel it.”
Jillian’s mouth was dry and her stomach rolled as she twisted one direction and then the other, trying to see anything at all. When Snake-Eye’s truck appeared, she opened the door and stepped out.
He stopped long enough to give a thumbs-up. “It’s all over. Everything’s okay. I wasn’t here. You didn’t see me. I’m busy eating pancakes.” He started off again, trailing dust, but stopped and yelled out the window. “I owe you for a box of shells.”
As he sped off, sirens wailed in the distance. Snake-Eye whipped his truck into the side entrance of the used car lot and disappeared as the first police car flew around the corner. She waited while three squad cars and then an ambulance sped past.
Heather looked at Jillian’s messy hair and wrinkled clothes. “If we’re going to sit here and wait, you might as well tell me about last night. Or maybe it was this morning.”
“Both. And it’s none of your business.” Jillian backed the car around and started to the store. Megan was still asleep.
“Bye, Heather,” she said as she pulled into the parking lot.
For once, it was actually good to see her.
Adam limped behind the counter and picked up a box of shells. He gripped the box with both hands and touched it to the back of Trevor’s head, getting blood on one end. He lifted the box shoulder height and dropped it on the floor, spilling bullets everywhere.
When he heard the first sirens, he faced Cara. “You were passed out, right?”
“Right. Do I have time to kick him again?”
“Better not. You’re too weak and frail. You probably can’t even answer questions.”
Mike and Larry were the first team through the door and they had their guns drawn. He held his hands up. “I’m Detective Adam Campbell with the Houston Police Department. The man on the floor broke in here with a gun and tried to abduct this woman and her baby.”
Cara started sobbing loudly. “He tried to kill me. Detective Campbell saved my life.” She clung to Adam’s arm.
He tried to send her a mental message——don’t overdo it—— but Mike and Larry seemed to eat it up.
Mike stopped suddenly, lifting his nose and narrowing his eyes. He sniffed loudly, then turned his head and sniffed the other direction, as if trying to place a familiar odor.
“What happened here?” Larry crossed toward Adam, and his feet shot out from under his bulky frame on the spilled bullets.
Adam bit back a grin as the big man tried to steady himself. “I was unarmed, so I threw a box of shells at him.”
Mike and Larry looked closely at him for the first time, taking in his appearance. The back of Adam’s neck grew warm, but he returned their gaze without flinching.
“Where’s J. R.?” Larry hefted himself off the floor.
“She took the baby and left through the back door.”
Mike kept looking at Trevor on the floor and back to the counter. “That was some throw.” His voice was more skeptical than admiring.
“Adam used to play baseball in college.” Jillian pushed the door open with one hip while she held the baby tightly against her chest. “I think he still pitches for the police/fireman’s league.”
Seeing Jillian and Megan, safe and unharmed, made Adam’s knees tremble. He hadn’t realized how worried he’d been. Even the throbbing in his toe seemed to diminish.
“Megan, sweetheart, are you okay?” Cara ran to Jillian and tried to take the baby out of her arms.
Jillian shook her head. “You’re not in any condition to hold her yet. Let’s put her back in her crib and you can watch her sleep. She didn’t even wake up.”
As they headed toward the back room, Mike gave Jillian the same appraising look Adam had undergone a few minutes earlier. He liked the d
eputy’s knowing gaze even less when it fell on her. A bolt of protectiveness shot down his spine and his hands balled into fists.
Jillian slipped up the stairs to her apartment. When she returned, her hair was freshly gelled, her shirt was changed, and she was wearing sandals.
She handed Adam his shoes, then pointed to his shirt and raised her eyebrows. He turned his back and quickly redid his buttons, but there no way he could get his shoe on over his swollen toe.
“That’s better,” she said, “but you might want to do something about your hair.”
He ran a hand over his hair, but it sprang back immediately. “I think I’ve completely ruined your reputation.”
“Well, you have, but not in the way you think.” Jillian looked around the room, now filled with police, sheriff’s deputies, and EMT’s. “Most of the men in this room have hit on me at one time or another and been turned down. I think the going speculation is that I’m gay. A fallacy I’ve done my best to encourage. It makes life easier. I think you’ve blown my cover.”
“Sorry about that.” Adam grinned in spite of himself.
“That’s okay,” she whispered. “You’re worth it.”
Half an hour later, the store was beginning to empty. Trevor regained consciousness and was transported to the county jail, where a doctor would check him over. Cara and Megan left by ambulance to the nearest hospital for examination.
The EMT’s tried to convince Adam to go with them and have his foot x-rayed. He refused, and they admitted the toe probably wasn’t broken, but had definitely been dislocated. They put butterfly bandages on the cut, and he convinced a paramedic he’d played ball with to pop the toe back into place, making the pain he experienced when it dislocated seem like a mosquito bite.
“You sure you don’t want to come in with us?” asked the young paramedic. “You need stitches on that toe, and you shouldn’t be driving.”
“I’ll be right behind you,” Adam promised. “I can catch a ride with one of these officers.”
As soon as the ambulance pulled away, Adam sent Jillian upstairs to get some Super Glue. He lifted the bandages gently and covered the cut with the Super Glue, holding the edges together until it dried. After replacing the band aids, he wrapped duct tape around the injured big toe and the one next to it, holding them in place.
Within minutes, he was sitting at Jillian’s desk, his foot propped up and a bag of frozen peas on top of it. He tried to explain to his boss why he wasn’t at work, but Luchak wasn’t buying it. “I’ll be there in a couple of hours, and you can give me all the grief you want. Right now I’ve got to find some aspirin and a cup of coffee.”
If he didn’t already have a headache, facing Hard Luck would give him one.
Adam delayed leaving as long as possible, but Jillian seemed to have everything under control.
“My only regret is that I didn’t get to see Snake-Eye sucker punch Trevor. At least I saw Larry take a pratfall as I waltzed through the door. That should be good for a few laughs when I get bored.” She had her hand on his chest, smoothing his collar.
“You remember everything we went over about Friday, don’t you? We can call it off or postpone it if you need some time to...” Her eyes stopped him, and he remembered she didn’t appreciate being treated as if she were fragile.
“We’ve been over it a dozen times. I know what to do. Now, get out of here so I can finish cleaning up. I’ve still got five bullets missing, and I don’t want one of my good customers falling the way Larry did.” She kissed him gently. “I’ll be waiting for you in the coffee shop near your office.”
He glanced over his shoulder as he limped out the door. She was already sweeping the floor.
Adam checked the time as he sped away from Jillian’s. If he hurried, he could change clothes and take care of Rover without being too late.
Finding something to wear was easy. He had one good suit, which he saved for personal use or the times he had to be in court, and several inexpensive suits or sport jackets for daily wear.
But what the hell was he going to do about shoes? They were his one extravagance. He learned early the value of investing in sturdy footwear since he might spend the day going door-to-door interviewing witnesses or need to chase a suspect down a city street or through back yards and over fences.
He could cut the toe out of an older pair, but they were the ones he wore on rainy days or when he needed to do a grid search in an empty field. He dug in the back of his closet and found something his ex-wife bought when they took a three day Cruise to Nowhere, steaming around the Gulf of Mexico. He’d never actually worn them, but they might work.
After stalling as long as possible, he headed for the station and all the ribbing that was coming.
He strolled into the squad room wearing a suit and one dress shoe. On the other foot was a sandal exposing a swollen and bloody big toe. Every person in the room stood, as he knew they would, and began applauding. Some gave cat calls or mock bows. They were all laughing.
“All rise for our newest superhero, Toe Jam Campbell.” Frank Nelson stood in the back of the room and swept his arm in Adam’s direction.
“Okay, get it over with. You’re all jealous because you weren’t injured in the line of duty. This is a war wound and should be treated with respect.” Adam limped to his desk with all the dignity he could muster.
“If that was in the line of duty, she must have been the mayor’s ugly step-sister.” He’d expected the ribbing from Nelson, but when Steinberg joined in, he knew it wasn’t going away any time soon.
“War wound, my ass. It was more likely a booty-call wound. And by the looks of that foot, if she stepped on your toe, she must have been in excess of three hundred pounds.” Nelson was still in high form.
“Y’all have it all wrong.” Tenequa the Terrible was the only woman on the shift, but her language was the saltiest. At close to six feet with hair in a bleached blonde buzz cut, she somehow managed to be both the most frightening presence to perps and the most comforting to children and nervous witnesses. “It’s been so long for Toe Jam, he plumb forgot how to do it properly. He’s so used to putting his foot up someone’s ass he got mixed up on what went where. I tell you what, honey, I got a book explains it all. I’ll bring it to you next week.”
It’s my own fault. I knew I shouldn’t have laughed when Larry skidded across the floor on a layer of bullets. As soon as I did, he couldn’t wait to get on the radio and spread tales. Now every cop in the city, in the county, knows. He could live with all the cartoons and gag gifts that would magically appear on his desk over the next few months, but if that nickname caught on, he might have to transfer to another department.
He was almost glad when he saw his boss beckon from his office door. “Campbell, let’s have it. There wasn’t enough crime in Central Division so you had to go out in the sticks to find more? I hope your fellow officers in the county are pleased with your work, because it’ll be your hard luck if this blows back on me in any way. You may need to go to them to look for another job.”
“It shouldn’t cause you any trouble, Lieutenant. Everything was by the book. There won’t be any questions.” Well, part of that statement was true anyway.
“Except why I have an officer on the injured list. You’ve screwed up my good record. Only five months until I retire, and you pull something like this? Now what am I going to do with you? I might as well send you home. You aren’t fit for duty. If I find out you were diddling when you should have been working, you’ll see what hard luck is.”
If the boss sent him home, it would ruin his plans for exposing Marshall. “I don’t need to take any time off, sir. There’s enough paperwork around here to keep me busy the rest of today and tomorrow. I should be as good as new by Monday.”
“Okay, Nelson and Steinberg are working a drug dealer case, and they need to trace a money trail. You can stay here and work the telephone and do some research on the computer. The dealer was alive, tied to the steering wheel wit
h duct tape, when the car was set on fire. A good Samaritan heard him screaming and was injured trying to get him out.”
“That’s a shame.” Adam pushed his glasses up on the bridge of his nose. “Just when you think there aren’t any left, one shows up and gets hurt.
He didn’t mind working the phone. He’d been told he had a reassuring voice and people tended to open up to him. The computer was something else. Spending all day sitting in front of it wasn’t his favorite part of the job, but at least research was real police work, not like filling out endless forms.
He rolled his chair next to Nelson’s desk, careful to keep his foot protected, and pulled out his notebook. “What do you need me to do?”
Frank Nelson was a small man, not more than five six, and meticulous about grooming, often brushing imaginary pieces of fluff off his suit. He had an attractive baby face and was often called “The Kid,” but only behind his back. His fondness for practical jokes wasn’t always appreciated by other members of the squad.
“We have a good idea who our suspects are, thanks to the description given by our witness.” Nelson scooted his chair closer, and Adam jerked his foot out of the way. “They’re two brothers we’ve had dealings with before. About a year or so ago, their mother went missing. Her new boyfriend says she was tired of her sons freeloading and wanted to kick them out. The sons, of course, say it was the other way around. She was trying to kick the boyfriend out.”
Nelson lifted a piece of lint from Adam’s jacket, examined it as if it were contaminated, and dropped it in the trash, moving his chair ever closer. “Now, the boyfriend was no prize, so it could be either way, but he’s still alive, and if they actually thought he did something to their mama, he wouldn’t be. We never found any trace of her or her jewelry and the sons are still living in her house.”
Remy Steinberg leaned forward to pick up the story. He wasn’t much larger than his partner. He claimed five nine, but that probably meant five eight. He was Jewish on his father’s side, Cajun on his mother’s, and cowboy by choice, so he could play almost any part when interviewing. He preferred to dress in western cut suits, big belt buckles, and cowboy boots, although the boots could have been for the extra height.
The Secrets on Forest Bend Page 14