She felt nothing.
She heard nothing.
She knew nothing, like a robot being controlled by an unseen remote.
When she reached the squad car with Andrew in the back, she yanked open the door.
His twisted smile greeted her, but it faded as she hauled him out onto the ground. He landed hard on his shoulder, unable to break his fall with the cuffs in place.
She didn't say anything. There was no speech, no Dirty Harry moment. She just aimed her pistol at his head and slipped off the safety. A second later, pain exploded in her skull.
She welcomed the darkness as it closed over her.
33
The heat wave had finally broken, beaten into submission by the summer rains. Lucky stood, watching silently as a procession of black-clothed mourners trailed through the water-logged grass of the cemetery toward their cars.
It still didn't seem real.
Four days had passed since that evening in the parking garage, and she still woke up every morning like it was a regular day. Her eyes flipped open and she would look around the room, wonder how much time she had before the alarm clock woke her up. And then it would come, slowly. First, a sense of general unrest…a disquieting tap-tap-tap in her brain.
Something bad. Something bad. Something bad.
And when she finally emerged from sleep, reality would rush in like a torrent, sucking her under. Holding her there for minutes, sometimes hours, at a time.
Reflexively, she pulled her trench more tightly around her as the rain soaked it through, but she barely felt it. She sent one last look at the gleaming headstone, and was about to leave when a familiar voice called to her.
"El?”
Viv.
She couldn't bring herself to turn around. The thought of facing Carlos’s wife was debilitating. Her deep brown eyes would be filled with accusation and pain…the knowledge that what had happened to her husband was Lucky’s fault. She was his partner and hadn’t been there when he needed her most.
She let her head drop low as she blinked back a rush of hot tears.
"El!”
Viv was just a few yards away, now, and she couldn't put it off any longer. She turned and took in her friend’s exhausted face.
“How did you know I was here?”
“When you didn’t call me back this morning, I contacted Abby. She said you’ve been coming here for the past three days. I figured I’d give it a shot.”
Shaking her head slowly, Lucky held up her hands in surrender.
"Jesus, Viv. I'm so sorry."
Viv's swollen lips trembled and an ugly sob came exploding out of her mouth before she had a chance to stop it with a clenched fist. She kept walking toward Lucky, closing the last of the distance between them. Then, she dropped her umbrella and dragged Lucky in close for a full body hug.
She wanted to give in to the lure of that comfort...the familiarity of that embrace, but she didn't deserve any of it. She tried to pull back, but Viv held tight.
"Why didn’t you return my call?" Viv demanded, drawing her head back slightly to peer up at her. “Why haven’t you come back to the hospital?”
She’d gone that first night. Once they’d treated her for a concussion after Flynn had tackled her, causing her to smack her head against the cement floor, she had discharged herself. Then, she’d slept in the waiting room on a chair while Viv kept vigil by ‘Los’s bed. After that, she’d called three times a day to check on his condition. And three times a day, she was told nothing had changed.
He still hadn’t woken up.
He might never wake up.
“I thought it would be best if just the family--”
“You’re family," Viv shot back, taking a step back, now, to prop one hand on her hip and glare at her. "We all need to be there for each other right now. The kids have been asking for you."
Lucky swallowed the knot in her throat and looked away, the pain in the other woman's eyes only magnifying her own.
"No one blames you, El. No one." Viv bent to retrieve the umbrella and held it high to shield them both. "This has been the worst thing that's ever happened to me and I have been cursing the day Carlos became a cop with every breath. I’m so full of rage, I can hardly bear it. But not at you, El. Never at you."
She turned toward Brad’s gravestone, where the fresh flowers Lucky had brought sat like a beacon of color in a grayscale painting.
"You know, when you and Carlos first became partners, I was so jealous." Viv laughed in her sweet way so there was no bitterness in the words. "He thought you were so smart. He'd come home and tell me about the cases you cracked and about how well you guys worked together. When he started in homicide, I'd foolishly thought that's what I wanted. To be the person he could talk about cases with, and I'd be so understanding and supportive. But once I had the kids, I realized I didn't want that at all. The last thing I needed to do was hear about another psycho stabbing a store clerk, or some rage-filled dad knocking his baby's skull in because she wouldn't stop crying. When you came around, you filled a space in his life that I couldn’t, and I resented it."
"But then, as weeks turned to months, and you guys got closer, I realized that I was less nervous when he went off to work. Knowing that you guys had built that trust between you was like a security blanket for me. I knew you had his back and that was something I wouldn't have traded for anything in the world, never mind because of petty jealousies."
Viv's words shot Lucky up inside and her guilt folded in on itself, settling on her chest like a cement block.
"I'm telling you all this, now, because I get it, El. I wish I'd told you sooner, but who knew this would happen?" Her voice wavered and she paused for a few seconds before letting out a shaky breath. "I know you love him. And I know he loves you. I've known for a long time. And it doesn't change anything."
Lucky lifted her head and stared at her friend, grappling with the ramifications of her words. "Viv, I swear, I would never—"
The other woman drew back with a frown.
"Don't insult me…I know that. And if I didn't, we wouldn't be standing here like this right now. None of this was your fault. Carlos became a cop long before he knew you. Sometimes, I think he was born one. So ready to put his fists up for other kids getting bullied, so fed up with seeing kids and women getting hurt. He went from doing it in the military to doing it on the streets. This was his purpose in life and I had to make my peace with that when I married him. I'm telling you all this because I have no doubt in my mind that you did everything you could to protect my husband. And I know that, if you could, you would switch places with him right now. You're everything I asked God to give him in a partner. My kids adore you. I adore you, and Carlos would want us to hold each other up right now and be strong for him, don't you think?"
She couldn’t think at all, lately. All she could do was feel, and it fucking hurt.
"I won’t bother you again, but I had to get that off my chest. Don't be a stranger, El. He needs you. I need you.”
Lucky watched Viv go and wanted to rush after her.
She’d been so consumed with guilt and sadness, she’d done the one thing she swore she’d never do again, if only ‘Los would pull through.
She’d let her partner down.
That ended here and now. She was on administrative leave, and had nothing but time on her hands. She would use every second of it trying to support them all. She needed to be strong.
For Viv and the kids.
For herself.
For ‘Los.
Epilogue
Two weeks later
“’Everything is supposed to be very quiet after a massacre, and it always is, except for the birds,’” Lucky said softly before setting the book on her lap with a frown. “I gotta be honest, partner, I don’t know why you read this stuff.”
She shot a glance at ‘Los and leaned in to tuck the blanket more tightly to his chest. The heat wave had reignited, but they kept it meat-locker chilly in the
intensive care unit.
“I’m going to pick one from my bookshelf next time. I feel like we need something a little lighter. Peppier. With magic. I’m thinking Harry Potter,” she continued as she slipped the bookmark between the pages and set the Vonnegut novel on the tray table beside her.
She stood and stretched, glancing at her watch. She promised Viv and the kids she would stop by for late-night pizza on the way home.
“Time for me to head out. I’m going to hang out with the rug-rats. Feel free to go on and read ahead without me while I’m gone, though,” she said as she fussed with his blankets one more time.
It hadn’t been easy. In fact, the past couple weeks had been some of the hardest of her life. Even now, looking down at his pale face and shrinking body, it was hard to quell the panic and aching sadness. The only difference was, she refused to give in to it.
A lot had changed in a short amount of time. Andrew Mathews, dubbed by the media as “The Chessboard Killer” was behind bars. And, given that he’d confessed to two premeditated murders and one rage killing in a gas station bathroom they hadn’t even known about, he would be for a long time. Even if they didn’t tack on the time for killing poor Fat Chance, or the attempt on Carlos’s life, Andrew would never see the outside world again.
To her mind, it still wasn’t enough for the pain he’d caused. For the pain he continued to cause.
Brandon Ryland was out of the hospital and recovering at home physically, but Lucky had spoken to his mother, Nancy, and he was having a hard time coping emotionally. She was worried sick about him, and Lucky could hardly blame her. Something that terrifying…that violent was going to take time to work through. She and Nancy were meeting up for lunch the following week. Lucky hoped Brandon would be willing to speak with her as well. She had reached out to some connections through the precinct and had a list of support groups and therapists who specialized in PTSD and trauma that might be able to help.
Tomorrow would mark her own fifth therapy session with Dr. Maples, and as much as she hated talking about her feelings, Katherine’s gentle but no-nonsense air made it easier. She didn’t pity Lucky. She just listened to her talk.
About Andrew and how she still dreamed of killing him.
About Flynn and the strange mix of gratitude and anger she felt toward him for stopping her.
About her job and whether or not she would ever go back, even if she could.
But mostly about ‘Los, and how she still couldn’t grasp that they’d almost lost him, and how afraid she was that they still might.
She had to admit, it helped.
A little.
But some days were tougher than others. Today was one of those days.
She chewed on her bottom lip for a long moment and blinked back tears.
“Not today, Satan,” she muttered. Then, she took ‘Los’s hand with a sigh. “I’ll see you tomorrow, buddy. And I’m dead serious about Harry Potter, just FYI. If you only want Slaughterhouse-Five and For Whom the Bell Tolls, speak now or forever hold your peace.”
She gave Los’s hand a squeeze and was just about to let go, when she felt it.
The tiniest increase of pressure…
As Carlos squeezed back.
Did you enjoy Lucky Break? Check out book two in the Lucky Strickland series, Getting Lucky, coming in May, 2021!
Midtown Manhattan between 50th and 58th and Lexington and 10th.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
This one is for my Dad.
And for the amazingly wonderful Margaret, who was the inspiration for the Beverly Marks, and my sister Nicole, who had the distinct pleasure of being her “Monty”.
Special thanks to my bestie, Mikey, for reading and helping me make it better. To Sean for all the chess knowledge and talking me off more ledges than I can count. To my amazing editor, Nicole Bailey (who, no matter how much credit I give, never gets enough). And, as always, to my amazing husband, Chip. You are a veritable scaffold of support, and I couldn’t love you more.
I’d also like to thank Christie Satterfield for reading but also for letting me borrow her amazing last name. And to Christie’s warrior of a mom. You are both ever in my thoughts and prayers <3
Last but not least, to the Big Apple. Some of the greatest things in life are also the hardest to describe with words. I tried my best to honor the amazing, addictive, crazy, eclectic energy that is New York City and the people who live in it. Please know, this is my feeble attempt at a love letter to you. I hope I didn't fuck it up too much.
Lucky Break (Lucky Strickland) Page 22