by KT Roberts
“Are you all right?” He wrapped his arms around her. She pushed him away. “Are you okay?” He stood looking at her, a deep crease in his forehead.
“I’m fine.”
“Yeah, I can see that.”
She bent down to clean up the mess she’d made.
“Don’t touch anything. You know better than that.” He pulled her hand back, then called headquarters. “Send a crew over to Detective Kensington’s apartment. Yes, the address is . . .”
“No, dammit.” She shot him an angry look. “Now I’ll never find out which asshole in the department is doing this to me.”
She could see by the indignation in his expression, that he was going to do precisely as he wanted. “We’ll wait here for you,” he said into the phone.
Jessie walked at a fast clip into headquarters, leaving Zach several paces behind, and headed to her desk. Lieutenant Harwell noticed her from his windowed office and walked out.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“Fine.” She pulled a file from her drawer and lowered her head to check the contents, blocking out the questions the lieutenant would surely ask. She tried to ignore the pounding dull ache in her head.
“Kensington, in my office, please.”
Jessie deliberately ignored him. Her attention was focused on the report she was reading. At least she wanted him to think that.
“Now!” he said firmly, catching the attention of her peers.
She released a groan, pushed her chair back, and walked to his office. He shut the door behind her and she sat down in the chair he’d pointed to. His grey suit jacket hung on the hook behind the door. A pile of folders, higher than the stack on her desk, sat on the corner of his. An empty container of coffee sat next to the phone.
“Sit!” he pointed. She did as she was told. “You want to tell me what the hell is going on?”
“That’s just what I’d like to know. Now that Gerard forced himself into the middle of this, my chances of finding out who’s doing this are shot to hell.”
“That’s some attitude, Detective Kensington.”
She averted her eyes from his, her hands fiddling with the loose fabric on her chino slacks. “I’d like to know how long you’ve been keeping this from me.”
“It isn’t anything I can’t handle,” she said.
“You let me be the judge of that Kensington.” He moved papers from his desktop into the inbox, a feeble attempt to tidy up. “Yeah, I know how tough you are. So answer the question. How long has this been going on?”
“For two weeks.”
“Let me see if I have this straight. You’ve received three notes in two weeks, and black roses today with another note, and you’ve kept this to yourself?” He pursed his lips. “Unbelievable, Kensington. Even for you.”
“If I thought it was something serious, I would have come to you, Lieutenant. Honest.” Her shoulders relaxed. “I think it’s from one of the assholes in the department.” She looked directly into his brown eyes. “They know about us. Did you know that?”
“You’re shittin’ me, right?” His eyes opened wide. “You mean that crap is still making headlines after all this time?”
“Exactly. They seem to think we’re still involved.”
“Do they now?” He shook his head in disgust. “Interesting. So, how does that tie into what’s happening with these black roses?”
“It’s Friday the thirteenth. It’s supposed to be a scary day. Bad things happen. Think about the connection with the guys for a minute. Let’s face it Lieutenant, you came here after your promotion. We had a previous relationship, and now the guys treat me differently. They’re afraid to talk to me anymore. They nod when they pass by. I know they’re worried I’ll tell you something they’ve said. I can see it on their faces.”
“How can you possibly know this? Did someone tell you this?”
“No. Wouldn’t you feel the same way?”
He stood and paced, planted both hands on his hips. When he noticed several officers watching him through the glass window, he pulled the shade down. “Okay, so who do you think is doing this?”
“I have no idea. That’s why I didn’t want the department called today. But of course, my jackass partner had to get involved.”
“For chrissake, Kensington, he’s concerned about you. Besides, he’s your partner and needs to know what’s going on with you . . . just as you do with him. You know that better than anyone.”
“Oh yeah, and I’m just thrilled.” She rolled her eyes.
Harwell shook his head. “Look, I’m really having a hard time believing the guys in this department would do something like this, but, hey, I’ll check it out—”
“But—”
“Discreetly,” his finger raised in the air as though he was disciplining a child, his voice lowered to a gruff pitch. Jessie slouched back into the chair, her hands folded and resting in her lap.
“As a place to start, I want a complete list of every case and every criminal you’ve arrested in the last three years.”
She stood to leave and flung her hand in the air on her way to the door.
“I haven’t dismissed you yet.”
She slumped back down into the chair. “Sorry, I thought you were done.”
“And I want those on my desk,” his finger tapped on the surface, “by the end of the week.”
She shot him a look, her mouth twisted in irritation.
“Okay . . . now, you’re dismissed.”
“What about the guys? What if you’re just wasting your time?” she asked.
“If nothing turns up, I’ll call the crew in and tell them what’s going on.” He huffed out a breath of air. “Okay, Detective, I want you back out there,” he pointed, “focused on Lenny’s killer and your Jane Doe. To make this perfectly clear, I’ll handle your problem myself. I do not want you involved in this whatsoever. You can’t be objective about it, and you sure as hell can’t focus on your job.” She stood to leave. “If you receive any more notes, dead flowers . . . anything, of any kind, you are to report it to me immediately.” She didn’t respond. “Am I making myself clear?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Can you push this aside?” he asked with raised eyebrows. “Or do I need to take your shield and gun away for a while?”
“No. Please. Let me do my job. I’ll go crazy at home wondering what’s going on with my Jane Doe case.”
“Fine. Then get the hell out of here and do some work.”
“Thank you, Lieutenant.” He nodded.
Zach was on the telephone when she returned. He gave her a weak smile; she gave him a dirty look and walked down the hall to records. He flung his hands in the air as he watched her steadfast steps, certain he’d never understand women, especially this red headed spitfire.
11
Lieutenant Jack Harwell leaned back in his chair; hands tightly clasped behind his head, his feet resting on the top of his desk, and wondered about Kensington and the threatening notes.
If her suspicions were correct, and those notes were coming from someone on the inside, he’d make the bastard pay—big time. If it hadn’t been for Gerard calling the precinct when the roses showed up, he never would have known. He’d lost her all those years ago because of a drunken one-night stand that changed his life forever. The thought of losing her again would devastate him. Not in a romantic sense, but if someone wanted her dead, it would kill him too. The biggest obstacle facing him was to figure out who was doing this in a discreet way, and put his ass behind bars. He wouldn’t rest until he did. He owed her that much.
The memory of the expression on Jessie’s face when he’d told her they were breaking up sent a ripple of anxiety to settle in the pit of his stomach. It had haunted him since the day it happened and would continue to haunt him for the rest of his life. He had to right the wrong somehow. And although finding the stalker would help, it certainly couldn’t erase the pain he’d caused.
Resentment tightened in his chest, a
nd his clenched fist came down on the desk with a loud thud, angry she had to go through this—angry it caused her more pain.
Jack picked up the photograph of Max, the only good thing that had come out of his reckless one night of passion. And although he did not love Ginny when they married, he’d learned to love her. He shuddered and forced himself to shake off the thought and focused on the matter at hand. Was the person doing this trying to get even with him or her? It was certain his list of enemies far outweighed his friends. The most logical suspect on his list was Sergeant Tip Jackson. It was no secret the two men despised one another, and if the rumor mill was talking about his prior relationship with Jessie, he could almost guarantee Jackson was the one spreading the word.
He flicked on the intercom. “Pauline, are Kensington and Gerard still in the precinct?”
“Yes, Lieutenant, I saw the two of them walk to the lab.” She paused. “Did you want me to call them?”
“Yes. I’d like them both in here.”
“Have a seat,” Harwell said when they entered his office. “I need more information from you, Kensington.”
“Regarding?” Jessie asked.
“I’ve been racking my brain trying to figure out who would be dumb enough to send threatening notes to one of my detectives.” His hand swept back and forth over the top of his closely cropped haircut, a nervous habit he’d had for as long as she’d known him. “So, I’ve come up with the answer.”
“Okay,” she said.
“If it is anyone in this department, it’s Jackson . . . but we have to check out every possibility and not just focus on one person. We’re going to treat this like any other case we work on and go with the assumption that it’s someone you’ve likely put in the slammer. Maybe he’s out on parole and definitely looking for revenge.”
She looked from him to Zach. “I really wish you’d both just stop this and let me handle my own problem.” She threw her hands up impatiently.
“Jessie, you know better than to have tunnel vision,” Zach said. “Stop thinking about this on a personal level and begin to consider all the possibilities.”
She shook her head and watched her partner’s face break into a toothy grin. He sure as hell wasn’t helping her cause. She eyed the two of them again, and was swept away with unease at having slept with both men. What had she been thinking when she jumped into the sack with her partner? But that was just it—she hadn’t thought. She’d allowed her emotions and the alcohol to cloud her thinking. Now, she had the task of telling Zach she’d made a huge mistake. But how was she going to tell him when that damn smile of his had become a permanent fixture on his handsome face? Getting involved with Harwell had been a stupid rookie mistake, but at the time she’d been lonely and so desperately in need of being loved, it seemed an easy choice. But what was her excuse this time?
Zach’s knee bumped against hers when he crossed his legs. Trapped in her thoughts, she never noticed the jarring until Harwell raised his voice.
“Are you working on your list of cases, Detective?”
“No. I have other more important cases that need my attention.”
“Is that a fact.” His face flushed. “Then let me make sure you understand me. This isn’t a request. It’s a direct order.” His jaw jutted out. “I will expect a list of your cases this afternoon. And, if you’re so hell bent on thinking it’s one of the guys in the department, then you provide me with a list of peers who you suspect.” He gave her the arched brows as if daring her to decline to obey his order. “I’m going to find out one way or another, Kensington, so you might as well be the one to tell me.”
“Look, Lieutenant, these guys and I have been through thick and thin together, supported each other when we’re down, and congratulated each other for a job well done. Giving you a list of names is like being Serpico. The last thing I want to do is to cause a ruckus in the department.”
“In fairness to Detective Kensington, Lieutenant,” Zach interrupted. “It could be because of . . .” He stopped short.
“Because of our previous affiliation,” Harwell finished his sentence, his finger swayed back and forth between the two of them.
“Uh, yeah.”
A sudden hush came over the room for what seemed like an eternity to Jessie. She squirmed uncomfortably in her seat, wishing they weren’t having this conversation. Annoyed, she broke the silence. “Please, Lieutenant, do we really need to air our dirty laundry with Gerard here?” She was flabbergasted he’d even broached the subject. “If I wanted my personal life to be addressed, I would have shared it with everyone myself.”
“Hey,” Harwell said, “I don’t have anything to hide—do you?”
“Well, no.” She tilted her head to the side. “But it’s my private life we’re discussing here. I should be able to decide whether or not I want people to know.”
“Yeah, and now it’s coming back to bite you in the ass.” Harwell’s voice elevated. “He’s your partner, Kensington. Do you want to keep him in the dark? What if this is more serious than you think? He needs to know what’s going on.”
“But our relationship is ancient history.”
“Yes it is, but the longer this goes on, the more it becomes current events in the eyes of the stalker. So let’s get this crap out in the open and move on.”
“Well, I’m not happy about it.” She sighed.
“Yeah, well, that’s too bad. So get over yourself.” Harwell’s sharp rebuttal brought back a host of memories. It was like the sting of a bee. “Okay. So are we all on the same page now?” the Lieutenant asked.
Zach nodded, a little too vigorously she thought, wishing she could wipe the smirk off his face.
“Here’s what I’d like from each of you. We’ll start with the precinct first. I want you two to do this together.” Jessie raised her brows. “Hey, he may think of someone you don’t.”
“I do that and I’ll be labeled a whiny bit . . .”
“I want,” he interrupted, ignoring her comment, “the list to include anyone you’ve had words with, any uncomfortable encounters, anyone who’s made you feel the least bit suspicious—and I don’t care who it is, just put the damn name on the list.” His finger pounded on the desk. “I’ll deal with it later.”
“The first one on my list is Jackson,” Gerard said.
Her mouth started to open to say something, but she sighed with reluctance and sat back.
“Kensington. I’m not going to tell you this again. Do you get me?” Harwell said.
“Okay, fine.” She flung her hand in the air. “I guess he’d have to be on my list too.”
Harwell’s head shook in bafflement. “I can’t believe he’d be so foolish, especially given our history.”
“I don’t trust him, to tell you the truth,” Gerard said. “And it’s not because of what he did for Officer Ramirez, but he keeps showing up in the most unexpected places.”
“Oh, really?”
“Make sure you put those occurrences on the list next to his name. Okay, is there anyone else that comes to mind?”
The office door opened, and everyone turned to see who was entering. “Sorry to interrupt, Detectives,” Pauline, Harwell’s secretary entered. “Lieutenant, I think you should take this call.”
“Pauline, can’t you see we’re busy?”
“Yes, Lieutenant. I can see that. But Sara Milligan is on the line saying the sketch of the unidentified woman posted around the borough is her sister.”
Zach stood. “Sit,” Harwell said. “We’ll all listen to the call.” He pushed the speaker button. “This is Lieutenant Harwell.”
“I’m sorry, Lieutenant, but I specifically asked for Detective Gerard.”
“I’m right here, Sara,” Zach said.
“Oh, thank God. I’m so glad I got through to you.”
Jessie did not acknowledge her presence. She’d played bad cop during a few encounters with the woman and didn’t want to stifle what information Sara had for them.
“What can I do for you Sara?” he asked.
“That sketch hanging all over the city,” her voice cracked, “it’s my sister.”
“What makes you say it’s your sister?”
“Because it’s a good likeness of her, because she was supposed to meet me on Wednesday, and because she never showed.”
“Maybe she had something else to do and forgot to call you. Did you check your voicemail?”
“Very funny, Gerard.”
“Sara, you’ve told me so many lies in the past, how do I know you’re telling me the truth now?”
“I’m telling you, Gerard, the sketch . . . that’s my sister’s face.” She became silent.
“Alright. Come in to talk to us. I’ll tell the desk sergeant you have an appointment.” They disconnected.
“What’s the story with Sara Milligan?” Harwell asked.
“She’s been in and out of drug rehab a number of times, got involved hooking for her dealer, and various other felonies. Do you know who her brother-in-law is?”
“I don’t believe I do.”
“Patrick Sawyer.”
“No kidding,” Harwell’s eyes opened wide with surprise.
Knowing Harwell, Jessie could tell the wheels were turning in his mind over the possibilities of information Sara might have on his archenemy.
“I vaguely remember the last time she was at the precinct being questioned,” Harwell said, “but I didn’t know there was a connection between her and Sawyer.” He puffed his lips out. “Has she ever mentioned him during those visits?”
“She has,” Zach confirmed, “but to tell you the truth, nothing has ever materialized.”
“So what makes you think the information she provides today will be any more valuable.”
“We don’t, but I didn’t notice any slurring of her words this time. Did you, Jessie?”
“No, I didn’t,” she said.
“Neither did I,” Harwell agreed. “How many times has she been in rehab?”
“I’ve lost count,” he offered. “Last occurrence was . . . ” he turned to his partner. “Two, three months ago?”