Donnell Ann Bell

by Donnell Ann Bell

  “Do you?”

  “I’ve broken the law.”

  He shook his head. “Not even close. Let’s go into the den.” He led her into the other room, set the package on his desk, pulled back the flaps, then lifted an oaken box from the inside. The weapon was housed in an old time carrier, which in itself was in good condition, even containing a built-in bottom drawer full of brass rods, brushes, and other cleaning elements. “Do you have the key?”

  Wide-eyed, she nodded and wordlessly handed it to him.

  Well, she hadn’t lied. After removing the lid, he saw that tucked in the gun box was a beauty of a Magnum revolver insulated by gray foam. He refrained from touching the long-barreled weapon, wondering for the first time if it contained prints, when it was fired last and if Melanie had something to tell him.

  His heart sped up as he looked at her. “You said you’d broken the law?”

  Eyes welling, she bit her lip. “That gun belonged to Carl.” She then proceeded to go off on a near hysterical explanation of how ex-cons couldn’t own guns, how her dead husband had understood that, but wanted to save it for Luke. Therefore, he’d left it with a friend who returned it to Mel the day of Carl’s funeral.

  “Okay,” Joe said, resisting taking the trembling woman into his arms until he knew more. “How have you broken the law?”

  She stared at him. “I kept it. I didn’t get rid of it.” She paused and visibly swallowed. “The day I went to your office to confront you for talking to Simon, and you brought up Maxwell, I opened that box and consciously made the decision to keep it.”

  Joe felt the corners of his mouth slide upward. But before she thought he was laughing at her, he vanquished the smile.

  “But now that I’ve had time to think about it, I don’t want it. I know I have to give it to Luke, but Carl wanted to wait until he was an adult. I’m thinking thirty-five.”

  She was such a mom. “When was it fired last?” Joe asked.

  “Oh, gosh,” she said. “I can’t be sure Arnie never fired it, but my guess is that it’s been fifteen years or more.”

  Taking Mel at her word, Joe removed the solid weapon from the container. She was right. The revolver showed no evidence of being fired anytime recently. In fact, to get it primed, he would only need to run a mop or two through the barrel and wipe down the key elements. But no way could Melanie handle it―these things had kick. “So what are you asking me, Mel?”

  “Well, for one thing, am I in trouble?”

  Joe did grin then. “I wish all ex-cons were as conscientious as you. I don’t think when lawmakers enacted that particular legislation, they had you in mind. You’re right, you’re not supposed to own one. But you’re not in trouble. Yet. So, let’s do something about it. What concerns me more is that you have something lethal, and you don’t have the strength, or the first clue how to handle it. A .357 Magnum is known for over-penetration.”

  She frowned. “Which means?”

  “It can go through a human being and cause injury to innocent bystanders, not to mention what it will do to your property.”

  Her beautiful face went pale. She stared at the Magnum in horror. “Now I really don’t want that thing in my house. I was going to give it to Luke, but neither one of us has ever been around guns.” She paused. “Does Matt know how to use one?”

  Joe nodded. “He’s grown up around them. He’s also been taught to respect them. He also knows never to touch mine.”

  “He took your car,” Mel reminded him.

  “This is different. I can swear on a stack of Bibles that Matt would never handle my weapon without my permission.”

  The worry lines eased from her face.

  “What do you want me to do with it?” Joe asked.

  “Keep it. Save it for Luke. Maybe show it to him, tell him about his father’s wishes.”

  “Which were?”

  “That Luke take ownership of it when he’s a man. Also, could you work with him... teach him how to use it? Make sure he knows it’s not a toy?”

  “That, I’d be happy to do. I’ll store it in my vault.”

  Her whole body slumped in relief as Joe allowed his smile to form fully. He did hold her then. Lifting her chin, he looked into her eyes and murmured, “You’re such a worrier.” When she looked like she might argue the point, he kissed her, loving the sound of her protests, followed by her laughter against his lips. It didn’t last long. As Joe deepened their kiss, Mel wrapped her arms around him. Not only was her coat proving to be a nuisance between them, it was wet. He’d just unzipped it when his cell phone rang.

  She stiffened, stepped back and stared at the phone on his desk.

  First clocks, now cell phones. Give me a break. Striding to it, Joe returned a helpless shrug, and held up a finger. “Crandall.”

  He listened as Dispatch alerted him of a house fire, and that a family was suspected inside. “Emergency vehicles and patrol are en route,” the operator said. “But as fast as the blaze went up, the arson investigator suspects a heavy accelerant.”

  Joe knew the area well. The neighboring houses also consisted of townhomes and duplexes, all in dangerously close proximity. “Ask the sergeant to get a detective on scene, and until we know something conclusive, don’t talk to the press. I’m on my way.”

  “You have to go,” she said.

  He nodded.

  “I can’t believe I ever called you a monster. You’re amazing.” She kissed him.

  Now who’s putting who on a pedestal? “If I recall, you had your reasons. Let’s get you home, Mel.”

  Chapter Thirty-two

  Coronado High School’s long-awaited winter break arrived, but for Luke and Matt, playing video games, hanging out with friends and sleeping in weren’t part of their itinerary.

  For the third day in a row, Mel drove them to the Police Operations Center to complete yet another segment of Joe’s imposed community service.

  “I must’ve already gone through six bottles of Armor All,” Matt said. “Check this out.” From the back seat, he thrust his hand out so Luke could see it. “I rubbed so hard I grew a callus.”

  Luke laughed, but refrained from his typical sarcastic retort. Mel studied him as she drove. Since taking off, and being suspended last week, he’d been pretty subdued. His lip had healed and the angry bruise on his left cheek had faded to a dull yellow.

  “I know why they call cops pigs, Mrs. Norris,” Matt continued. “You should see all the crap they leave in their cars.”

  Catching Matt’s gaze in the rearview mirror, she gave him a wink. “Maybe you should take that up with your dad.”

  Matt rolled his eyes. “I’ll pass on that one. But I guarantee my ol’ man’s car never looked like that. I think he told them to make sure they left plenty of sh―junk in their cars so we’d have lots of work to do.”

  Mel tried, but failed to contain her smile. That sounded exactly like something Joe would do. Her cell phone rang as she pulled alongside the CSPD. The boys got out of the car and she waved.

  “You dropping off the delinquents?” Joe asked.

  “Yep.” She looked over her shoulder and had to wait for oncoming traffic. The early morning sun was so bright it hurt her eyes. She fumbled above the visor to locate her sunglasses. “You should be seeing the whites of their eyes any second.”

  “Good. Cooper tells me they’re doing a good job.”

  “Cooper?”

  “The vehicle maintenance supervisor. He’s keeping them in line.”

  “Slave driver.”

  “You free for lunch?”

  “I’m not sure. Why?”

  “I thought you might come by and pick me up?”

  “What’s wrong with your car?” she asked.

  “It’s out of commission. I’m having it detailed.�
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  “You rat.”

  “Call me if you can get away. I’ll take you some place pricey.”

  She laughed. “As much as I’d like to break your wallet, this close to Christmas the shop’s bound to be swamped. Tell you what, if I’m not there by one, I’m not coming.”

  “Fair enough.”

  Mel swung from the curb. Naturally, pressed for time, she hit a yellow light. “Be nice to our boys,” she said.

  “Oh, yeah,” he lied and disconnected.

  It probably wasn’t a good thing for the brand new manager of Pinnacle Creations to hope the store wasn’t booming today. But that’s exactly what she wanted. Mel caught a glimpse of her sappy grin and wiped it away. She was in serious trouble. She had it bad for the cop next door.

  At ten till one, Joe glanced at his watch and assumed Mel wasn’t coming. Too bad, he thought. He’d wanted to see her before Karen and Trish came into town tomorrow night. He wasn’t particularly anxious to connect with his ex again, but couldn’t wait to see his little girl.

  Two sharp raps on the door brought his attention back to work. Bruce Bennett leaned in the doorway. “Don’t you eat lunch?”

  “Just haven’t gotten around to it.” A shred of unease tore through Joe. He was fairly sure Mel was a no-show, but if she appeared, the situation could turn ugly. Fifteen years ago, Bruce Bennett had been the prosecutor who’d sent her to prison.

  Now that Luke understood how Joe and Mel met, many walls had come down. Nonetheless, Joe wasn’t anxious to resurrect them. “What brings you by?”

  “The rumor mill, of course, the majority concerning you.”

  “Wow. You people keep better track of me than my mom.”

  The D.A. frowned and took a seat. “Someone has to look out for you. Know where I was this morning? In Chief Gallegos’ office, along with two city council members. It’s starting, Joe. With Archambeau’s retirement, someone’s on his or her way to commander.” Bruce hesitated. “I always believed it was you.”

  Joe resisted grabbing a Tums. “And now?”

  “Chief likes the bad guys to make headlines, not members of his staff.”

  Bruce may have been a prosecutor, but he was still a lawyer. He made his living using words and subtext. Joe waited for the bottom line.

  “Nice scab on your forehead. Ever think of staying out of the street?”

  So he knew. Joe wasn’t surprised. He clasped his hands behind his head and maintained his poker face. Something told him it was useless, though, because Bruce had stacked the deck.

  “Tell me something. That private dick who tried to run you over. . . Why wasn’t he arraigned, and why didn’t he spend one hour in the C.J.C?”

  Joe shrugged. “Jail’s overcrowded. He wasn’t a threat to anybody else and he promised to leave town.”

  That answer didn’t sit well with the future attorney general. “The man assaulted a cop. The old Joe Crandall would have hung the guy up by his thumbs.”

  “As opposed to the new?” Joe tired of guessing games. “Spit it out, Bruce, what’s on your mind?”

  “Do you know who your competition is?”

  “I’ve heard a few names bandied about. Good people. All qualified.”

  “Avery Ballard’s being considered.”

  Joe’s inside quaked. Ballard was a prima donna, a man who’d risen through the ranks by bringing good people down. He and Joe had butted heads on numerous occasions. Most cops, when assigned to Internal Affairs, took the job reluctantly. They did their stint and got out. Avery Ballard signed up time after time, mainly because he was an asshole. He was book-smart, educated and recently touted a PhD. That didn’t make him a good cop―or a decent human being.

  After years on the force, Joe had earned his Master’s. Still, he’d achieved his real education on the streets, while Avery had hidden behind a desk. “Rotten choice, if you ask me.”

  “No one’s asking. Instead, you’re giving the higher ups reason to consider him.”

  “And how the hell am I doing that?” For the first time, Joe raised his voice.

  “She’s trouble, Joe, and you’re falling for her.”

  As the D.A. played his hand, Joe clenched his fist. So the entire discussion revolved around Melanie. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. All right, a P.I. was watching her. I apprehended the son of a bitch and sent him on his way.”

  “Did it have anything to do with Maxwell?”

  “Not a damn thing. You’re judging her based on several years ago. Do you know why she’s in Colorado Springs?”

  “Why don’t you tell me?”

  “Simon Rivers, the warden of Fremont County Women’s Correctional Facility, arranged for the move. For years she was married to a DOC officer who recently died. She’s a decent woman, Bruce, who made a mistake when she was seventeen years old.” Joe stood. “Yeah, I let a scumbag go to protect her, and if that makes me a lousy candidate for commander, feel free to change your recommendation.”

  Joe fought hard to keep things in perspective. It wasn’t the first time they’d disagreed; it wouldn’t be the last.

  Bruce lowered his voice and leaned forward in the chair. “Ninety-five percent of the cops in this building want to see you promoted. That doesn’t mean a damn thing. Cops are discouraged from fraternizing with convicted felons. If you were a first year patrolman, I’d be warning you off. As a twenty-year veteran of the CSPD, you have to know this. I’m telling you this can ruin your career. Not only will you not make commander, you’ll never advance, and the likelihood of demotion or termination is even higher.”

  Joe swallowed hard. He wasn’t a rookie. He’d been ensconced in the system so long he could recite the rules―written and unwritten―by heart. If a subordinate had been sitting before him, engaged in a similar situation, he’d be citing the same advice as his colleague.

  But damn it, he no longer thought of Mel as an ex-con. His breath caught, and he shuddered at how deep his feelings ran.

  Tiny crevices lined Bruce’s eyes and gray peppered his temples and sideburns. In all the time Joe had known him, he hadn’t gained an ounce. No. He hadn’t changed on the outside, but what about the inside? Bruce rose from the chair. “That’s all I came to say. Think about it.” He strode to the door and yanked it open.

  Preparing to knock, Mel stood in the doorway. At the sight of the man who’d introduced her to the penal system, her eyes went wide and she stared between the two.

  Joe rounded the desk.

  Ever the politician, Bruce was the first to recover. He extended his hand. “Mrs. Norris. We were just talking about you.”

  She blinked, then glared at the man, but made no attempt to shake his hand.

  “My condolences on your loss,” the D.A. said, returning his hand to his side. He turned to Joe. I appreciate you filling me in on those facts.”

  “Come in, Mel,” Joe said.

  Swallowing visibly, she took a step back. “No, thank you, Lieutenant. I left the shop at a particularly hectic time and I need to get back.” She stared at the district attorney. “As it turns out, I’ve suddenly lost my appetite.”

  For a moment Joe stood motionless, fighting his immediate reaction to go after her. Fifteen years ago he’d chased Melanie Daniels, and that event had turned to disaster. He glared at the man, who up until now, he’d considered a friend. “We were just talking about you?”

  “All right. Poor choice of words. But if you think about it, you’ll see I did you a favor. That woman or your career, Joe.” Bruce shrugged as he walked away.

  Mel drained the last of her water bottle and returned to the shop.

  “That was the quickest lunch in the history of mankind,” Aaron said. “I thought you said you were going out with the hunk?” With Christmas upon them, poinsettias and holiday accessories
were selling at record speed. Aaron paused from bringing new plants into the showroom.

  “The hunk, as you call him, was in a meeting.” She shrugged out of her coat, wishing she could shuck her misery with it. “What’s next, boss? Did we get the McKenna order taken care of?”

  “We did.” He refused to be put off. “Do you want to talk about it?”

  Her shoulders slumped. Her boss was such a good man. “No.” Communicating the fact she’d run into the overly ambitious jerk who’d sent her to prison wasn’t something she wanted to share with anybody. To top off that dismal meeting, Joe had seemed embarrassed to see her. “You understand, don’t you?”

  “Of course. But remember, I’m a pretty good listener. Any chance you can shake off this mood by tonight?”

  “Tonight?” She groaned inwardly. Had he scheduled her to close and she’d forgotten?

  “Karlee’s going-away party.” Aaron held up his arms, shuffled his feet and snapped his fingers doing his own unique rendition of a Flamenco dancer. “We’re meeting downtown at the Ritz. Karlee’s husband’s coming with a few of his Air Force buddies.” Aaron winked. “You said you wouldn’t miss it.”

  She had, hadn’t she? A party. Mel preferred to stay home and wrap Christmas presents. Still, Karlee had been a staunch supporter and was now a good friend.

  Several thoughts ran through Mel’s head. From last week’s episode in her kitchen, to the compassion he’d shown with Luke’s gun, to the embarrassing situation today at his office, she could use a distraction. A party. Something like that might be just what she needed to forget Joe Crandall ever existed.

  Joe lingered at the basement door and listened to Matt and Luke take turns brutalizing the punching bag. Having just completed the same routine, he wiped sweat from his face and neck.

  A going away party. Good for Mel. She deserved to have some fun. It occurred to him that gnashing of his teeth was the polar opposite to his forced sincerity.

  He’d picked up the kids from the vehicle maintenance lot and found Luke talking on his cell to his mother. Overhearing his side of the conversation, Joe had gathered Mel was concerned about how Luke would be spending the evening.