Avenged

by Janice Cantore

Carly frowned and swallowed. “Sort of . . . Wait, isn’t that the woman Alex calls the ‘dragon lady’?”

  “The same. Only he calls her worse things than that. Anyway, apparently you’ve offended her in some way. It’s all over her blog. She claims that you’re biased and you profile people unfairly. She’s asking for people to contact her if they’ve dealt with you and had their rights violated. She doesn’t think your testimony can be trusted in court.”

  “What?” The sandwich stopped halfway to Carly’s mouth as her appetite fled and her stomach turned with an unpleasant feeling.

  “She was laid off from the Times—that’s why she’s just a fill-in at the Messenger—and she wants to get a bigger and better job by breaking a big story. Alex was afraid if he turned his back on her, he’d find a knife in it, so he’s been keeping track of her, following the blog. Anyway, you know how big stories about police corruption or misconduct are.”

  Carly set the sandwich down and wiped her hands on a napkin. “I don’t know what to say. I don’t even know her. Why is she picking on me?”

  “Alex thinks it’s because of all the awards he got for his stories about the mayor’s murder and your role in uncovering the corruption. Face it—you’re the star witness in what is going to probably be the biggest trial ever in Las Playas. Alex has been subpoenaed to testify as well, and he thinks she wants to blow the both of you out of the water, make him look incompetent and you dirty.”

  “But why? She wants to weaken the case against one of the most corrupt men ever arrested in Las Playas?”

  “She wants a national news organization to take notice of her investigative reporting and thinks this will do it. Look, check out the blog.” She gave Carly the URL. “I know she can say just about anything, and there’s nothing you can do unless you can prove damages, but maybe something is over the line and the department will make her stop.”

  Andrea’s words brought to mind the warning Alex had given her a few months ago, when Masters first began to work for the Messenger.

  “She’s got designs on my job, but she only wants to use it as a stepping stone,” he’d said. “She wants to break a sensational story that will get her some national attention and give her a ticket to some national gig. She thinks she has an angle. Instead of America’s most wanted criminals, she wants a national show devoted to exposing America’s most corrupt cops. And she’s not above stirring the pot, setting things up. Watch your back.”

  At the time Carly had been basking in a honeymoon glow, and she laughed. The idea sounded so absurd, she hadn’t really taken the warning seriously. She and Nick were perfect, so the world must be too. What a jarring fall back to earth.

  “I’ll check it out; thanks.”

  “Sure thing.”

  Carly said good-bye and hung up, then took a deep breath before she went into the living room and pulled out her Mac. She remembered when Alex Trejo used to write horrible things about the police in general and her specifically. But they’d been through some scrapes together and had gotten to know one another, and now she considered him a good friend. What was the problem with this Masters woman?

  Carly didn’t spend much time on the computer or Internet unless she was searching for something work-related. She heard people talk about blogs and social networking and knew Andrea and Alex both loved chatting online. She even read Alex’s blog from time to time. But recreation for both her and Nick was something active, something outside in the sun or the water. Being stuck in front of a screen was not where she liked to spend her free time. Alex often teased that she and Nick were stuck in the past and that the technical age was whizzing by them, but Carly never felt like she was missing anything, so the computer only came out to serve a purpose.

  When the Mac fired up, she punched in the URL Andrea had given her. As soon as the page loaded, she saw what the problem was and felt like she’d been kicked in the gut.

  Ginny Masters was the blonde who’d been with Dean Barton.

  •••

  “But there must be something we can do to stop her! She’s trying to make people believe that I’m a rogue, out-of-control cop! It’s as if she wants to poison the jury pool or something.”

  Sergeant Barrett seemed too quiet and read a little too slowly as he sipped his coffee.

  Carly had read through the blog posts three times and gotten angrier each time. Masters brought up every major incident in Carly’s career and twisted them to make her look shady. In Carly’s first officer-involved shooting, her partner that night, Derek Potter, killed an unarmed man. Carly had been cleared of any wrongdoing. But months later she shot and killed Derek Potter after he tried to bash her head in with a bat. Masters made that sequence of incidents look as though Potter was going to spill the beans about something and Carly killed him to shut him up.

  In Carly’s next big case, she arrested real estate mogul Conrad Sperry and Thomas Caswell, a prominent defense attorney. Again Masters twisted the incident, asking with a snarky tone, Just why would a cop want to get rid of an effective defense attorney?

  By the time Carly reached the entries about her “cold-blooded persecution” of Dean Barton, a man trying to turn his unlucky life around, she had nearly thrown up. There was even an unflattering photo in the latest blog entry of Carly handcuffing Victor Macias, making her look like a big blue meanie. Carly knew it was one Duncan Potter had snapped. That was the last straw. Masters’s poison pen was one thing, but hooking up with Potter took this to a whole different level.

  “I don’t know what we can do,” Barrett said finally. “It’s just a blog. Who knows how many people even read this stuff.”

  “But it’s obvious she’s trying to make me look bad, stopping just short of saying I framed Drake and Tucker when I was the guilty one. Look at how she twists everything.”

  “I see it, but we both know it’s nonsense. So will anyone else who knows you. She’ll just come off as a crank.”

  “But can’t we stop her?” Carly hated to hear herself whine, but the stuff in the blog was much worse than anything Alex Trejo had ever written about her.

  “I don’t know how. Maybe in the morning you can go to the DA and ask if he thinks there’s a legal step he can take. You’re his star witness.” He shrugged. “Why do you think she’s picking on you?”

  Carly crossed her arms. “Remember the memo I filed? She was with Dean Barton at Half Baked. I think that may have something to do with it.”

  “The parolee?” Barrett made a face. “What in the world would a good-looking woman like this see in that guy?”

  Shaking her head, Carly picked up her kit and turned for the squad room, wanting to snipe that the woman was not that good-looking and probably wasn’t even a real blonde. What she said instead was, “I have no idea.”

  Carly fumed during the squad meeting, barely hearing the watch report. She’d missed connecting with Nick; he’d been asked to confer with some ATF agents in Los Angeles, which could mean there was news about the guns. Even in her bad mood she had to admit that to get something back this soon was great news. She wasn’t going to call and interrupt a meeting like that. When the squad meeting ended, she picked up her kit and stood, only to find herself facing FBI agent Wiley.

  “G-man, we’ve got to stop meeting like this.”

  “Officer Edwards, while it’s good to see you again, I’m actually here about the guns you found. Can you chat with me for a minute?”

  Carly looked at the clock and shrugged. “Sure.”

  Today they sat in the break room.

  “How’s Joe?”

  “He’ll need surgery.”

  “Ooh, sorry to hear that. I was hoping it wouldn’t be so serious.” Wiley made a sympathetic face. “So you’re solo tonight.”

  “Yeah, so what about the guns?”

  “Las Playas requested ATF help with the guns. I just wanted to know if there is anything else, maybe not in the report, that you can tell me about Trey Porter.”

  “Not really. He�
��s a local thug. Just about everyone in patrol knows him. Usually he’s the passenger in a stolen car or he’s in possession of a car stereo that doesn’t belong to him. Why?”

  “The weapons were military grade. How does a local thug get ahold of military-grade weapons?”

  “Good question.” Her heart raced a bit as she realized Nick was front and center trying to answer that question.

  “If there’s nothing more you can tell me, I’ll let you get to work. And again, you did a great job. Have you given any more thought to the task force offer?”

  Carly leaned back and sighed. “I scanned the information, but I haven’t made up my mind.”

  “You’re without a partner. Might that make the decision easier?”

  “I’m just not sure what I want to do. Do you need an answer right now?”

  Wiley shook his head. “I wanted to lobby. Car stops like the one that uncovered stolen guns show that you’re competent and aggressive. The task force can use you.” He stood. “Remember that this is a unique career opportunity—maybe once in a lifetime—and I’d love to see you on board.”

  The unique career opportunity did occupy her thoughts, and she found herself thankful for the distraction. But Wiley’s visit also made the blog posts rankle her more. Would the feds want her if they saw all that horrible stuff on the reporter’s blog?

  Every time she looked at the passenger seat, she missed Joe. He would have been a good sounding board and might have even offered some good advice. Being without a partner made Carly doubly glad it was her Friday. This set of four ten-hour shifts in her workweek had been horrible, and she needed the weekend to regroup.

  The night crawled by. She received a text from Nick about 2 a.m. He was home to sleep but on call in case anything went down. Knowing there was nothing worse than a whiny text, Carly told him she loved him, missed him, and wished him sweet dreams.

  When her shift ended, after she’d changed, Carly picked up two flyers for detective details looking for new personnel to see what competed with the task force offer. She’d decided on vice and narcotics and then grabbed a flyer for violent crimes as well. The first two details would have erratic schedules; they wouldn’t be straight day shifts. Carly wanted to talk over all her options with Nick.

  The task force is by far the most attractive job for a lot of reasons, but am I prepared to see less of Nick? That thought almost made her want to toss the task force information in the trash. She wanted a job that would allow her to see more of him. But the thought of the excitement and challenge the task force promised would not let her throw it out. Instead, she considered her other choices. If she decided on detectives, she could talk to Joe. Maybe they could be assigned to the same detail.

  As she climbed into her car, she sighed, glad the process of thinking about a new job had kept her mind off Ginny Masters for at least two minutes. With a huff, Carly closed her eyes and prayed, a little ashamed it had taken her this long. Her knee-jerk response to the woman was to get in her face, to square off with angry accusations. But didn’t that make the blog posts ring true? Didn’t that make Carly a rogue, out-of-control cop?

  She knew the Bible spoke of a soft answer turning away wrath. And she knew that the woman’s posts were untrue. What she didn’t know was how to calm down and let Masters’s vendetta roll off her back. She didn’t know how to find her soft answer. But Barrett was right—Carly and everyone who knew her would know the accusations were untrue. So, God, can you help me here?

  After a few minutes she felt better. Then her phone buzzed.

  You coming home?

  Carly texted back she was on her way and didn’t even wait for an answer before she started the car. She wanted a hug and she wanted Nick.

  12

  CARLY COULD TELL by Nick’s face that he had news. “What?” she asked after she dropped her kit and stepped into his arms for a hug that lasted a fraction of the time she wanted.

  “ATF was able to raise a couple of serial numbers.” His eyes were bright with anticipation. Finding information about the guns was huge, bringing them a step closer to finding the supplier.

  “This soon?” Carly sat on the couch. She noticed Nick’s kit by the door; it was the one he used when serving warrants and kicking in doors.

  He sat on the coffee table facing her, fidgeting with excitement. “The amount and type of guns we found set off an alert. They’ve been looking for a batch of guns stolen from an Army reserve base in Arizona about six months ago. A guard was killed.”

  Carly’s brow creased. She was tired and this news was difficult to process. “A theft like that from the Army? How?”

  “One of the agents here told me it was well planned and executed. They thought a Mexican drug cartel was behind it, at least with financing. The crooks had night-vision goggles and everything. But it wasn’t just guns that disappeared. A quantity of plastic explosive went missing as well.”

  “Plastic explosive?” Carly sat back, her eyes wide.

  Nick nodded. “Enough plastic explosive to take down a large building. The feds now fear that the thieves were domestic terrorists. Since the guns have turned up here, they think the explosives are here as well.”

  “But why Las Playas? What high-value target would there be for domestic terrorists . . . ?” She stopped when she remembered Oceans First.

  Nick read her mind. “Yeah, they think Oceans First might be involved.”

  “But they aren’t big enough—or bright enough, for that matter—to rip off an Army base. And what would they blow up? What would they gain?”

  “There are multiple targets in the harbor. They could also pick the new marina. Or it might not even be Las Playas. They could be here because of the close proximity to the Los Angeles harbor. Maybe they just want to make a point.” He shrugged, and Carly knew he had as many doubts as she had. But he needed to be positive Oceans First wasn’t involved before he crossed the group off the list. “This wouldn’t be the first time some radical environmentalists went too far. Remember that guy a couple years ago who was setting fires to SUVs?”

  Carly nodded. He’d burned two Hummers in Las Playas and a whole bunch more in San Diego, protesting gas guzzlers.

  Nick continued. “Mickey and I have been teamed up with a couple of ATF agents. We’re going to be serving warrants and checking out every spot in the harbor here and in LA that might be a target. And tentatively, we’ll be flying to Arizona to review things at the base. Fernando is in charge while I’m working with the feds. ATF is also adding agents to help with the gang situation here. They’re hot to find out who gave the guns to Trey and to speak to any gangster who will talk.” He gripped both of her hands in his. “I made arrangements for Cooper to cover my weaponless defense classes. I may not be around much this weekend.”

  Carly’s disappointment bit deep. But seeing the excitement in the deep blue of her husband’s eyes made her think before she spoke. Squeezing his hands, she said, “Will you be here for church Sunday?”

  “I’ll do my best, and I’ll call you whenever I have a chance.” He leaned forward and kissed her.

  She wanted to grab him and hold on. When the kiss ended, he stroked her cheek and smiled. “You know I’ll pop in when I can, but this is big, babe. We have to find the explosives. We’ll be saving lives.”

  “I know.” She threw her arms around his neck. “You just be careful, Sergeant Anderson,” she whispered in his ear. “That’s an order.” She felt him smile and pulled back to look into his eyes.

  “Yes, boss.” He kissed her one more time, picked up his equipment duffel, and was gone.

  •••

  Carly bit back a yawn as she stood in the sand, contemplating the surf, Maddie sitting at her feet. Nick’s car was pulling out of the driveway before she’d realized she hadn’t told him about the offending blog posts or Wiley’s second visit. It was just as well. She wanted him focused on his job and his safety, not her complaints or dilemmas.

  Dropping her towel, she told
Maddie to stay and headed into the waves. In spite of the fact she wasn’t training for anything in particular, she swam hard. As she churned out the first mile, it occurred to her that she should decide on something to train for, some goal to work toward. She rarely let a lot of time go between competitions, but her last big race had been the Maui Channel Swim months ago while on her honeymoon. The 9.5-mile swim had been a wonderful challenge, and she had finished with a respectable time. But it had also taken a lot out of her. The current had been tough, and she was stung numerous times by jellyfish. She’d felt sick and swollen for two days after the race.

  Nick suggested she just enjoy swimming for fun for a while before thinking about the next race, the next challenge. He’d also tossed out the idea of training for a triathlon, and then they could do a lot more training together.

  Carly gave that some thought. She liked to run and had no doubt she could train for a triathlon, but her bottom had an expiration time when it came to sitting on a bike, so she wasn’t sure a fifty-plus-mile bike ride was in the realm of possibility. Still, it might be fun to train at all three sports with Nick. Talk about together time.

  Right now, one of her days off was spent volunteering at the local YMCA, teaching swim lessons to disadvantaged children. Carly liked the kids and loved teaching. If she decided to train for something competitive, she’d have to give that up.

  She’d have to give that up and probably a lot more training time if she joined the task force. Carly pounded the water harder to clear her mind.

  Once finished, she sat on her towel letting the sun dry her off. The water had worked its magic and the prick of Masters’s blog had lessened to a tiny annoyance. She prayed again, asking for perspective and wisdom about both Masters and Dean Barton.

  She prayed for Nick, too, a niggling fear still in the back of her mind. Oceans First was annoying and vocal, but they had never physically hurt anyone. Guns and explosives just didn’t fit that equation.

  13