Avenged

by Janice Cantore

“Yeah?”

  He appeared as though he hadn’t slept in ages. Stale cigarette smoke hung around him like a shroud. She remembered what Joe had said about his marriage breaking up.

  “Great job with Porter. I told Nick it was a good catch.”

  She shrugged. “I’m glad we caught him but bummed it cost me my partner. I’d sure like to know where he got that arsenal. Did Nick get anything out of him?”

  Nick and Mickey had taken on the responsibility of cataloging and entering into evidence all the weapons and ammo recovered from the stolen car. They were in the evidence section now. Carly was resigned to the fact that she probably wouldn’t see her husband again until much later in the day.

  “No, Porter isn’t talking. But that’s not why I came to talk to you. I got called in to take a citizen’s complaint on you.”

  “What?”

  Flash drive forgotten, she felt her face flush hot when she saw that he wasn’t joking. The anger she’d felt earlier ramped up to fury. No one had ever filed a complaint against her specifically. She’d been named in a couple of complaints as part of a group in an altercation after a rock concert and once after a riot in downtown Las Playas, something officers regarded as a type of carpet bombing by lawyers on police departments, where they would name in a lawsuit every officer whose ID number showed up on a call.

  Barrett stepped into the room and pulled a chair close to Carly. “Look, I know it’s nonsense, but you know the rules—someone makes a complaint, I have to take it.”

  “Who complained? I haven’t had contact with any—” Her mind latched on to a name.

  “I guess it happened right before you got to work.”

  “Dean Barton.”

  Barrett nodded. “I knew you’d remember; the guy has an unforgettable face. Tell me what happened.”

  Carly sighed deeply and struggled to keep her indignation from surfacing. She told him everything about the confrontation and Erika’s desire not to prosecute her brother-in-law. While Carly could have arrested Barton for taking a swing at her, Barrett would understand why she didn’t. The contact with Barton was precipitated by what he did to Erika. Carly taking him to jail would have dragged Erika into the mix whether she wanted to be there or not. Since Carly had defused the situation with a simple control hold, in her mind it was a no harm, no foul situation.

  “I get the picture,” Barrett said when she finished. “The guy is basically whining that you stuck your nose in where it didn’t belong and put your hands on him for no reason.”

  Carly kept her mouth shut, fearing she’d say something she’d regret.

  “I’ll have to talk to the coffee shop people, but as far as I’m concerned, this is a service complaint that doesn’t bear further investigation.” He stood to leave. “That guy is just playing the system, trying to get to you because he knows he can. Don’t worry about this.” He waved the paper. “But file a brief follow-up about the contact, just in case.”

  Carly sat back in her chair, watching the sergeant walk away and fighting frustration. Her ten-year streak of no complaints was now over. Biting her lip, and mortified that the situation made tears threaten, she turned to a terminal and typed a quick follow-up, explaining the circumstances of the contact with Barton. After printing a copy, she ground out her initials on the bottom. Tossing it on the in-tray, she grabbed her kit and hurried to the elevator.

  She changed clothes with fitful, irritated energy, snatched her wedding ring from the top shelf, and slammed her locker closed. Holding the ring, she took a deep breath as she slid it back on her finger. The action calmed her as much as picturing her blue-eyed husband in her mind did. Carly hadn’t changed to her married name at work. Even when she and Nick were married the first time, she had remained Carly Edwards at the PD. It was never a women’s lib thing but rather a practical move meant to keep mistakes from being made when it came to subpoenas or commendations or any paperwork issues.

  Now, when she slid the ring on and prepared to go home, she was Carly Anderson, happy to leave the work persona in the locker room. When her phone chimed with a text, the emotion boiling inside about Dean Barton had eased. Blowing out a breath, she sat down and opened the message, thanking God that it was from Nick.

  Making food run. Have time to meet at HBAAG?

  “Oh yeah,” she said out loud as she replied to the text, grateful she wouldn’t have to wait all day to see Nick and relieved she didn’t have to stew for hours before telling him about the avalanche of bad news that had hit her this morning.

  8

  HALF BAKED AND ALMOST GROUNDED looked crowded with morning traffic when Carly arrived. Part of her wanted to talk to Erika and Ned, get more information on Dean. But she didn’t want to drag them into the drama. The complaint would be resolved at intake—she believed Barrett—but it still pricked her that Barton had filed it in the first place.

  She pulled into the lot behind the shop and saw Nick’s plain car. He was still in the driver’s seat, talking on his phone. Her heart raced a bit. He still did that to her. Eight years of marriage, a year of separation, and nine months of a second marriage, and he still percolated her pulse. Even the scar on his forehead, the result of a smack to the head by a bad guy, did nothing to diminish his handsomeness in her eyes. He was her GQ hubby.

  Walking to his car, she leaned against the front fender. He held up one finger and quickly finished the call before getting out of the car.

  “Hey, how’s Joe?” he asked as he closed the door, shoved his phone in his pocket, and faced her.

  She folded her arms and shrugged. “Doctor said his knee is sprained and that he’s likely to be off work for a month. But he has to go to occupational health and get an MRI. Did you get anything from Trey?”

  Nick shook his head. “Trey lawyered up.” He stepped forward and ran his index finger across her forearm. “Losing your partner for a month is tough, but it’s not the end of the world. What else is wrong?”

  Cognizant of the fact they were in a busy parking lot, Carly swallowed, fighting frustrated tears. She told Nick about the complaint by Dean Barton. Nick leaned next to her, his hip touching hers, and listened.

  “When it rains, it pours.” He took her hand and pulled her toward the shop. “Let’s go in and get something to eat. We’ll both probably think clearer about all this with some food in us.”

  He smiled and she squeezed his hand, feeling slightly better and all of a sudden hungry. Now that she’d told him the bad news, excitement from the good news of the task force offer bubbled up. She’d tell him about that over breakfast.

  Inside, the coffee shop was bustling. Nick took a number and placed their order while Carly found a table for two near the counter. The food would be delivered to them when ready. She could see Londy working busily in the coffee and baked goods area and Erika doing likewise in the kitchen. Carly also saw Mary Ellen following Jinx around, apparently learning to deliver food and bus tables. Carly knew Mary Ellen had applied, but she hadn’t realized that the girl would be working so soon. Like Londy, Mary Ellen had a checkered past. She’d run away from a foster home and even committed a kidnap, snatching Joe’s son, A.J., from the hospital about a year ago. But she’d brought the baby back unharmed and later saved Carly’s life. When Carly, Joe, and his wife, Christy, went to bat for her, the justice system was lenient. She ended up staying in the juvenile justice system and not moving to adult court.

  Mary Ellen had also done a lot for her own cause by buckling down and catching up on missed schoolwork. She completed her high school diploma while in state custody, completing one year’s work in four months. Now, while still on probation—the juvenile system would have jurisdiction over her until she turned twenty-five—she was a ward of her uncle, Jonah Rawlings, who also happened to be Carly and Nick’s pastor.

  In spite of the crowd, their food was delivered quickly. Nick had ordered veggie omelets and large coffees for them both, plus a huge cinnamon roll to share. It was the type of meal they’d share tog
ether on a day off. Carly felt her aggravation fade with each bite.

  “Why are you always right?” she asked Nick after half of her meal had disappeared.

  “Hmm?” he mumbled with his mouth full.

  “I do feel better, at least about the bogus complaint. But I’m so bummed about losing Joe. You know how tough it is to find someone you can work with for ten hours in a black-and-white.”

  Nick swallowed and nodded. “I do. I’m sorry he got hurt. You were safe with him; he has a good head on his shoulders.”

  Carly knew he meant physically safe. More than anything, a cop wanted a partner who would always have their back. Joe was that type of partner; she could trust him and they meshed. She took a few more bites of her omelet and then cut into the cinnamon roll.

  “Is anyone on your watch looking for a partner?” Nick asked.

  Carly shook her head, enjoying the taste of cinnamon and gooey icing. “I would have asked Kyle, but he’s retiring soon and has been taking a lot of time off.” An old-timer and a good friend, Kyle Corley wouldn’t be inclined to be a hard charger, but he wasn’t lazy, and he would back her up.

  “But I did get an interesting offer.”

  Nick’s eyebrows arched with curiosity as he sipped his coffee. “Yeah, what?”

  She told him about Wiley’s visit. When she finished, Nick sat back in his chair, and Carly studied his face for some hint about what he was thinking.

  “Hmm, that’s an awesome career opportunity. Have you looked at the information yet?”

  “No, right after Wiley gave it to me, Barrett came in to tell me about the complaint. The bad news makes me think the task force is the ticket. I got so angry after hearing about Barton’s complaint—maybe working with the feds is the change I need.”

  Nick took a minute to respond, chewing thoughtfully. “You need to look over the details and be certain about everything the job requires.”

  “I agree, but it almost seems like an answer to prayer.” She hated the fact that he had such a great cop face. “I know we both need to look at it. But it was you who said I need a change.”

  He hiked a shoulder, but she still couldn’t read his expression. “While I agree you need a change, I don’t think you should make such a big decision just to avoid a situation in patrol you don’t want. It will be a commitment in time and energy, babe, and you need to ask yourself where you want your career to go.”

  She sipped her coffee, knowing he was right but feeling irritated just the same. “You haven’t read it, and it already sounds like you don’t want me to take it.”

  A hint of a frown marred his features for an instant and then was gone. “I don’t have to read it to know that this is a job that will put you on a path you’ve never said you wanted to be on. It’s a stepping stone to either move up in rank or out to a federal agency permanently. Do you want that?”

  Carly sighed and pressed her fingers to her forehead, not wanting anger to rule her response. “I don’t know what I want right now. I thought I wanted to work with Joe in patrol forever, but I know nothing lasts forever. In fact, Joe said that just the other night.”

  “We’ll pray about it, then. I’m sure Agent Wiley would want you to be 100 percent certain before you decide.” He drank his coffee. “Don’t think you don’t have any options or that you have to decide too soon without considering all the variables.”

  “Lately I’ve just felt like I’m spinning my wheels, working hard to put people in jail and then seeing them slither out on technicalities.”

  “That’s Burke frustration. You know that’s not true with every case.”

  Carly huffed. “Well, I thought I’d be in a patrol car for thirty years. It surprises me that the task force sounds so inviting.”

  “It’s an honor.” His elbows were on the table, and he held his coffee in both hands. “Maybe this is a broader career nudge for you. If not in the direction of the task force, maybe it’s time to think about detectives here at home.” His thoughtful gaze held hers.

  “Hmm, you might be right.”

  “It’s just a thought. I know you hated juvenile, but that was an involuntary transfer. This would be your choice. If you do need a change, several details have openings. I’d think you’d want to look at all your options before making a huge leap.”

  She sat back and looked toward the coffee bar, where Londy worked the espresso machine. Mary Ellen was busing tables on her own, and the crowd had thinned. “I guess I like the idea of being challenged. A federal task force makes working in Las Playas look like working in Mayberry.”

  “We’re not LA, but we’re not Mayberry. You never know—you might love working a detail like violent crimes or even homicide.” He reached across the table and gripped her hand, rubbing her palm with his thumb. “Or maybe the change you’re looking for is in a different area. Maybe we can think about starting a family.”

  Carly jerked her hand away. “What?”

  Nick chuckled. “Babe, you look like I just asked you to cut off your leg.”

  “Maybe you did. You’re the one who always says that kids end the parents’ life.”

  “It’s been a long time since I said that. And maybe one kind of life does end so a new one can start.” His eyes were warm, and Carly struggled to stir up righteous anger to flush out the fear.

  She couldn’t do it. The thought of being a mother scared her to death.

  Just then Mary Ellen stepped up with a bag of to-go food. “Here you go, Sergeant Anderson,” she said with a smile. “I waited until you were just about finished before putting the order in.”

  “Perfect.” Nick took the bag and handed Mary Ellen some money. “I don’t need any change back from this.”

  Mary Ellen blushed, thanked Nick, nodded hello to Carly, and was gone.

  “Looks like she’s doing well,” Carly said, happy for the subject change.

  “Yep.” Nick finished his coffee in one gulp. “I’ve got to get back. Mickey is probably cursing me in all five of the languages he speaks. Those guns opened a can of worms. The serial numbers have all been filed off. We have to call in ATF on this. They have the resources to try to raise them.”

  He reached across the table and laid his hand down, palm up. After a second, Carly put her hand in his. He closed his hand around hers. “I’m not sure what time I’ll be home. Try to get some sleep.”

  She nodded and squeezed, fighting the unsettled feeling in her gut. “I will. You be safe.”

  He winked and left the restaurant. Carly watched him leave as she nursed her coffee. She would have left shortly after him if Dean Barton hadn’t walked in a few minutes later.

  9

  HE SAW HER AT ONCE and smirked. There was a tall blonde at his side. Carly thought the woman looked familiar but didn’t waste time trying to figure it out. She focused like a laser beam on Barton and was on her feet without stopping to think.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “What’s it look like? Getting something to eat. What are you doing? Waiting to harass me again?” His gravelly tone was singsongy and taunting. He winked at the blonde.

  Carly felt her face redden with anger, and she was conscious of several people turning their way to watch the confrontation. “You were told to stay away from here.”

  “I’m here and I’m staying. What are you going to do about it?” He stared at her with cold, empty eyes, the challenge there naked and obvious.

  What could she do? She was off duty and there was no sign of Erika anywhere. Barton’s threat hung in the air. Carly stiffened and struggled to avoid what she knew the man wanted: a physical confrontation. The trouble was, she wanted one as well. She wanted to smash him in the face and wipe that smirk off.

  “You—”

  “Carly.”

  She turned and saw Ned emerge from the kitchen. Taller than his brother, Ned was thinner, and he walked with a bit of a limp. Carly caught Dean’s glance at his brother and saw in it undisguised animosity, so Ned’s next words s
urprised her.

  “It’s okay. He’s my brother; he can stay.” Ned held up his good hand and continued toward them. He never wore a prosthetic, so the handless arm hung at his beltline. His brow creased in a frown as he cast a glance at Dean, who now grinned broadly, animosity gone. “We’re working some things out,” Ned continued.

  “What about what happened last night?”

  Ned sighed. “Like I said, we’re working on things.”

  She studied him and read a lot of things in his face but saw no level of comfort with his brother.

  “Me and my lady need some food, little brother.” Dean grabbed the blonde’s hand and continued smirking at Carly.

  She turned back to Ned. “All right, all right. My mistake.” Inside, she seethed all the more, knowing that Dean Barton was trying to set her off.

  “You’re a stupid cop,” Dean said, his scarred face twisted with glee. The woman laughed. “We expect stupid mistakes.” He waved a hand dismissively and turned away. “Come on, Bro, buy me breakfast.”

  Ned gave Carly an apologetic nod. She knew he wasn’t happy with the situation. Something else was going on, but she wasn’t going to find out what this morning. She said good-bye and left for her car, knowing that it would be a miracle if she got any sleep today.

  •••

  That night, Carly slid into the squad meeting expecting she’d draw a solo car. Kyle Corley was off, and everyone else was partnered up. She figured it was just as well because she was tired and cranky. Dean Barton had gotten under her skin, and she knew she needed to rise above his taunts. To be on the safe side, she filed a short memo to Sergeant Barrett about the morning incident with the parolee.

  And there was a conversation she’d had with Joe before leaving for work that nagged at her. She called to check up on him and mentioned the task force offer.

  “I have to have surgery,” he said. “Pretty soon too. I’m likely to be off work at least six weeks. You just thinking about the task force, or did you accept already?”