Still of the Night

by Dee Davis

  He wasn't the one.

  Sagging against the wall, she stared at the lights as they changed from floor to floor until the doors dinged open on four. Two older women moved forward, and Jenny used them to block her as she scooted out of the elevator, well out of sight of the man in black.

  Better safe than sorry.

  She sprinted toward the restroom, already fumbling in her purse for her cell phone. A woman at the head of the line must have mistaken her panic for bladder pain, because she offered the stall she was about to enter with a wave of her hand.

  Jenny didn't stop to thank her. She slid inside, bolted the door, and sank down onto the toilet seat, hot tears filling her eyes. With shaking fingers, she opened her cell phone and dialed Andy's number.

  Connor's partner would know what to do.

  CHAPTER TWO

  "What the hell happened?" Nico Furello slammed his hand down on the table, the pounding pulse in his temple almost deafening. "You were supposed to retrieve a package, not blow away half of the Upper East Side."

  "So I killed a broad." Reggie Anzio wasn't the brightest bulb on the tree, but he'd been useful on more than one occasion. Unfortunately, this wasn't one of them. "It's not like it's the first time."

  "That woman could very well be the wife of a Vice cop. You got any idea the kind of heat that could bring down on us?"

  "No more than some motor mouth claiming she'd seen us," Reggie said.

  "Well, that logic only holds water if the motor mouth was the only witness." Nico glared at his minion, his mind already trying to sort out the repercussions.

  "I tried to kill the other one, too." Reggie shrugged. "She just got lucky."

  "I got a make on the stiff." Sammy Lacuzo walked into the room, flashing a photograph. "Sandra Markham. She was friends with the ex."

  Nico's stomach twisted. There was going to be hell to pay for this. "And the one that got away?"

  "Jenny Fitzgerald." Sammy spat the name out like a curse. Which wasn't far from the truth. Thanks to Reggie's ineptitude, the woman was now a liability. And at the moment Nico had too damn many of them.

  "How good a look did she get?"

  Reggie winced but stayed silent, his gaze shooting to Sammy.

  "She could definitely make him," Sammy said.

  "It was dark...." Reggie trailed off, uncomfortably shifting from one foot to the other.

  "I don't want to hear your excuses." Nico ground his teeth together in an attempt to contain his anger. "The fact of the matter is that you killed one woman and left another as a witness. And to top it off, you failed to find Fitzgerald's proof."

  Reggie was a large man, but that didn't stop him from backing up. "We tossed the place. There wasn't nothing there."

  Nico nodded, his hands curling into fists. "That doesn't mean it doesn't exist. And now, thanks to you, someone knows we're looking. What about you?" Nico turned to Sammy. "Did she see you?"

  Sammy shook his head. "Maybe from behind. But I'm not even sure about that. I never went in the bedroom."

  "And the body's been disposed of, right?"

  "Let's just say it's not going to see daylight anytime in the foreseeable future." Sammy smiled.

  Nico nodded, his mind already formulating a solution to his problem. At least, to the most immediate one. "All right, then, we clean up the mess." Nico's gaze met Sammy's, and the other man nodded, his blue eyes devoid of emotion.

  Reggie shot a look at Nico and then Sammy, backed up another step, and raised his hands in supplication. "I ain't a liability"

  "Unfortunately, Reggie, that just isn't true." Nico sighed and shifted to the left, allowing Sammy a clean shot. It was over in less than a second; Reggie dropped to the floor, his eyes still wide in surprise.

  Sammy holstered his piece and stepped over the body. "I'll make sure he disappears. It's not like anyone will miss him."

  Nico nodded, his mind already turning to other problems. Bigger ones. They had to find out what, if anything, Fitzgerald had on them; and, even more urgently, they had to find his girl. At least she'd be identifying a dead man. But that wouldn't necessarily be enough.

  Nico and his father didn't always agree on things. The old man was too fucking old school. Playing by rules that no longer existed. No drug dealing. No beef with cops. Hell, Nico was in bed with them. It was a new era and, despite his old man, or maybe because of him, Nico intended to create his own playbook. To make good on his own terms.

  But there was one thing he and his old man agreed on—damage control was everything.

  Reggie's link to the family wasn't obvious, but with digging, the connection would be made. And Nico couldn't have that happen. Not if he wanted to stay alive.

  Which meant Jenny Fitzgerald had to die.

  *****

  The diner was like about a thousand others in New York—a counter and tables crammed into less space than a walk-in closet. The waiter had tried to give her a table at the window, but the last thing Jenny wanted was to be exposed.

  Instead, she was sitting in the rear of the restaurant, back to the wall, waiting for Andy. She'd wanted to meet at the station, but Andy hadn't wanted her on the street. He'd said it would be easier to meet somewhere close to Bloomingdale's. They'd agreed to meet at this diner.

  Jenny's hand shook as she lifted a glass of water, and she quickly put it back on the table, pretending instead to study the menu. She'd already checked out the sparse inhabitants of the diner—mostly shoppers sitting amid packages, enjoying some time off their feet.

  Considering everything she'd been through in the past few hours, she was handling it all reasonably well. At least, better than most middle school English teachers would. Of course, most of them didn't have a husband in Vice. Ex-husband, her mind automatically corrected, and she swallowed a bubble of hysteria.

  Maybe she wasn't handling it so well after all.

  "I'm sorry it took me so long." Andy Proctor slid into the booth across from her, his handsome face creased with worry. He had been Connor's partner for the past four years, and his friend for even longer. For all practical purposes he was family.

  Andy had been the one to tell her about Connor's death, to explain about the explosion, and to make her see that, despite the fact that there was no body, Connor was gone. There had been DNA evidence. And the reality was, no one could have survived that fire.

  Despite his friendship with Connor, Andy had remained her friend after the separation, shooting straight with her about Connor's involvement with Amy Whitaker, a uniform in their precinct. It had hurt to hear the truth, but it had also helped Jenny maintain her resolve.

  She sighed and smiled weakly, grateful when Andy covered her hand with his. "Did you check out the apartment?"

  "Yeah." He squeezed her hand, his expression hardening. "Sandy is dead. One shot to the head. Looks like the guy knew what he was doing."

  "There were two of them."

  Andy frowned. "Did you get a good look at them?"

  "Only one." Jenny shivered, closing her eyes. "The other guy had his back to me, and the living room wall blocked my view. I'm sorry"

  "There's nothing to be sorry about. I'm just glad you managed to get out of there. And if you can ID one of them, that'll at least give us a place to start."

  "Do you want me to come look at mug shots or something?" Jenny shivered again, and Andy tightened his hold on her hand.

  "That won't be necessary. At least not now. Let us do our job first. There's forensics and canvassing and all sorts of things that have to happen. What you need right now is to rest."

  "But what if someone is following me?" She pulled away from Andy, wrapping her arms around herself. "I mean, the guy knows I saw him."

  "My guess is that they're long gone. There's no reason to believe they were after you"

  Jenny nodded her head, but the voice in her head was singing a different tune. There was something deliberate about everything that had happened. "I can't help but feel that this was more than a robbe
ry. I mean, they knocked. That isn't usual, is it?"

  "No." Andy shrugged. "But sometimes it's the most direct route to money"

  "And Sandy let them in. It couldn't have been more than a few seconds before they killed her." Jenny shuddered, her mind obligingly trotting out a picture of Sandy's lifeless body.

  Andy's eyes searched her face, his gaze interested. "Was there any indication they wanted something else?"

  "Maybe." She ran a trembling hand through her hair. "I don't know. One of them said something like, "It's not here.'"

  "And you think the 'it' was specific?" A shadow crossed Andy's face.

  "It could have been." She studied his expression, trying to figure out what it was that frightened her. "Is there something you're not telling me?"

  Andy stared down at his hands, clearly debating.

  "Andy?" She reached over to cover his hands with hers. "What is it? What aren't you telling me?"

  He looked up, his eyes dark with an emotion she couldn't identify. "It's about Connor."

  The sentence came from left field, and Jenny felt her eyes widen in surprise. "You think this was about him?"

  "I think it's possible." Andy looked as if he wanted to sink through the floor.

  "Tell me," Jenny demanded, sucking in a breath, not certain she really wanted to hear.

  "I didn't want you to know." Andy sighed, looking suddenly tired. "I thought with Connor dead, maybe I could keep it from you."

  "Keep what from me?" Jenny felt as if the world were spiraling out of control. Or maybe her mind was finally accepting the reality of everything that had happened. Either way, her stomach was threatening revolt.

  "Connor was working both sides of the game, Jenny" Andy sat back, his face creased in apology.

  "What the hell are you talking about?" She wasn't sure what she expected to hear, but this wasn't it. Connor Fitzgerald might have made some mistakes along the way, he might have even dallied with another woman, but there was no way in hell he'd ever cross the line of the law. Even when he'd worked undercover he'd been able to compartmentalize it. Connor was one of the good guys, and Jenny was willing to swear that on everything she held holy "There's absolutely no way, Andy. You know that as well as I do."

  Her words were vaguely reminiscent of the ones she'd spouted the day Andy had confirmed Connor's infidelity. And the irony wasn't lost on her. But she still wasn't going to believe him. At least not without something concrete.

  "I wouldn't have believed it." Andy shook his head. "But it's the truth, Jenny. I have proof."

  "What kind of proof?"

  "Tapes and video. I even witnessed some of it. IAD had been investigating for almost six months before they called me in. And I was like you— skeptical and furious. But there was no refuting the evidence, Jenny. None."

  "I don't know what to think."

  "Look, after Connor was killed, the department decided to drop the case. There really wasn't any point in persecuting a dead man. So I figured you'd never need to know."

  "But the explosion"—Jenny struggled with the thoughts crowding through her mind—"was an accident. I talked to the investigators myself." He’d supposedly been killed while on a stakeout.

  "That's what they wanted you to think. With Connor dead, it was just easier."

  "So you're saying it wasn't an accident?"

  "I don't think so." Andy shook his head. "Connor told me he was meeting with a snitch. But I talked with the guy after the fact, and he swears he hadn't talked to Connor in months. And frankly, Jenny, I believe him."

  "So maybe there was another reason he was in that warehouse?"

  "We'll never know for sure. But the men he was mixed up with .. ." Andy paused, his gaze holding hers. "One of them owned the warehouse."

  "So why isn't someone trying to nail them for Connor's murder?" All her troubles faded at the thought that some lowlife had killed her husband and was getting away with it.

  "There was a cursory investigation. Very much under the table. But the evidence was inconclusive, and considering what we had on Connor, it was decided that more harm would come from making anything public. The case was closed, and the explosion was ruled an accident."

  "The blue wall in action." She tried, but couldn't keep the sarcasm from her voice. This was the part of the job that Jenny detested. And it had played a significant role in the demise of her marriage.

  "Like it or not, Jenny, you know how it works."

  "Yeah, I do. Bury it deep and maybe no one will smell the stink."

  Andy raised his hands in a shrug. "Connor made his bed. Considering what I've seen, he's lucky he went out like he did."

  "You don't mean that. Nothing, not even prison, could possibly be worse than death."

  "You haven't seen what I've seen, Jenny. Besides, a bad cop doesn't stand a chance in hell in the joint. If the inmates don't get him for being a cop, the guards will for being a bad cop. I'd rather be blown to bits, believe me."

  She stared at Connor's partner, wondering suddenly if she'd ever known him. If she'd ever known Connor. "Did you ever confront him with any of this?"

  "No." Andy shook his head, this time with regret. "At first I didn't want to face it. Later, I wasn't allowed to say anything."

  "But he was your friend."

  "And it killed me to keep this from him. Believe me, it did. But he'd changed, Jenny. You had to have seen that yourself."

  There was truth in that. Truth she couldn't ignore. "Six months ago?"

  "Probably more than that, but that's when it first appeared on the radar."

  Six months ago Connor had changed. He'd always kept his own counsel, but to some degree Jenny had always felt a part of his world. Then suddenly, like a door slamming in the wind, he'd locked her out. At the time she hadn't understood. Later, when she'd found out about Amy Whitaker, she'd assumed that was the explanation. But maybe Andy was right. Maybe there had been something more.

  "You should have told me."

  "I thought I was doing the right thing."

  "And now?"

  "Now I figure you're better off with the truth. I have every reason to believe that this was nothing more than a random robbery. But if someone was looking for something specifically related to Connor, you have a right to know."

  It was all too much to process, the information slamming through her brain like steel-reinforced dominoes. "If someone was after something, maybe they found it."

  "Maybe." Andy didn't look convinced. "But based on what you said, they were still looking when you ran. Did you take anything from the apartment with you?"

  The thought sent panic racing through her. "No. Nothing." She frowned, trying to think. "I grabbed my purse, that's all."

  "And you ran."

  "Yeah. Out onto the fire escape." She tipped back her head, trying not to cry. Tears weren't going to help anyone at this point. "He fired at me, and then started to follow. It all happened so fast."

  "You did the right thing." Andy's words were meant to be comforting, but Jenny didn't feel any better. "And I honestly don't believe you have anything more to worry about. Even if someone was there trying to find something in the apartment, the fact is that you and Connor were separated. Anything that touched him couldn't possibly have touched you. Whoever is behind this—if anyone is behind anything—will know that."

  "But I saw one of them. Surely that's not something they can ignore. I mean, they killed Sandy...."

  "It'll be okay. I'm here now. I won't let anything happen to you."

  She wished she could believe him, but nothing seemed certain anymore. She'd thought she'd known her husband, but now his friend—her friend—was sitting here describing a stranger. A stranger who'd played with fire and lost. And as a direct result, Sandy Markham was dead.

  "Oh, God, Andy, I just left her there."

  "She was dead, Jenny" His effort to comfort was immediate, but it didn't ease the pain working its way through her gut. "If you'd gone to her, you'd be dead too." He reached
for her hands again. "I wish I could make it all go away. But I can't. What I can do is make sure these bastards pay for what they've done."

  Jenny nodded, the tears pooling in her eyes. "For Sandy."

  "No, Jen." Andy shook his head, his gaze intense. "For you."

  She swallowed, then pulled her hands away, uncomfortable with the intimacy in his voice. "So what do I do now?"

  "Why don't you go home?" Andy said. "You're still living at your parents' house, right?"

  She'd inherited the house in Cold Spring when her mother died. It had been a sanctuary after the separation, a safe place where her failed marriage could be forgotten—at least for a little while.

  "You think it's safe?"

  "Yeah. I mean, there's no reason to believe these guys would be able to connect you to Cold Spring. Even if they did, I've already notified the authorities up there and explained the situation. They're going to keep the house under surveillance. And I'll come up as soon as I can. I just need to finish up with things here."

  "What about a statement?"

  "I've got enough for a preliminary statement just from what you've told me here and on the phone. We can do the actual paperwork tomorrow."

  She nodded, emotion still roller-coastering through her. "What about Sandy's mom? I should call her. Tell her what ha…happened." She choked on the words, the idea twisting in her mind.

  "Don't worry about it. I've already sent uniforms. You can talk to her when you're ready, but there's no need to do it tonight." He pulled out his wallet and threw a couple of bills on the table. "Why don't you let me take you to the train station?"

  Jenny swallowed her tears, squaring her shoulders. "I'll be fine on my own. It's not that far to Grand Central. I'll just take a taxi." She checked her watch. "If I hurry I should be able to catch the next train." Home and a bath suddenly sounded really good. She just wanted to be away from the city. Somewhere she felt safe. Somewhere she could think things through.

  Andy, however, didn't look convinced.