by Dana Mentink
Zach’s lashes fluttered, and he sighed in his sleep. He was perfect for all his glaring imperfections, her heart’s desire, right there on her lumpy sofa. She was fooling herself to claim anything else. She loved Zach Jameson, always had and probably always would. But that was where it had to stop, because he did not feel the same way and she could never risk losing him as a friend, her rock, her hero. If holding back her heart was the only way to preserve their friendship, then she would do it. The pain of it drove her to her feet and sent her pacing the confines of the living room.
She wandered to the window and looked down on the city street. It was dark now, but that did not completely stop the flow of New York City bustle. People traveled, even at this hour, along the sidewalks, and the parade of cars continued, along with the accompanying honking. She loved the city and it pained her as much as her father to see the little mom-and-pop shops and old brick storefronts giving way to gentrification. Why did progress have to mean losing the history and heartbeat of a community? In the glow from a streetlight, she saw a figure leaning, dark jacket, light T-shirt, the glowing tip of a cigarette poking through the gloom. It was impossible to see the face from such a distance, but the traffic headlights played over the bare head of the stranger long enough for her to catch his silhouette.
She sucked in a breath and stepped quickly out of view. Beck. He was watching the building, waiting for her and Zach to come out. Zach appeared at her elbow, rubbing his eyes. “What is it? Why did you let me sleep?”
“It’s Beck, leaning against the lamppost.”
Zach was instantly alert, grabbing his cell phone. “I’ll get backup. Grab your stuff. We’ll take the stairs out the rear exit.”
Beck vanished from sight as Violet pulled back the curtain. She grabbed her bag and waited for Zach to make contact, half listening to the conversation over the rush of her own panicked breathing.
“Carter’s nearby, visiting a friend,” Zach said. “Local cops are responding, too.”
When he finally disconnected, she asked, “Won’t we be safer up here?”
Her question was answered for her when a face appeared at the fire escape and Beck’s boot smashed through the window.
Zach propelled her through the door and out into the hallway. “Go. Now.”
SEVENTEEN
They raced with Eddie past the elevator, which was making its way up to the third floor. Would the doors open to reveal another killer? If Violet wasn’t with him, he’d take cover and wait to find out, but he couldn’t risk a shoot-out, not with her close and the apartment walls so thin. Instead, he pushed her behind him as they ran to the stairwell. Clear. They scampered down two floors.
His heart was thundering the whole way. The patrol cops would be closing in on Beck as quick as they could, but traffic was impactful even for cars with sirens on the top.
One more floor and still no sign of Beck or anyone else. Heading onto the final descent, he nearly plowed into a middle-aged guy with headphones. Zach pulled his gun. The man blinked in shock and simultaneously dropped his water bottle.
“This is Mr. Gabriel,” Violet said. “He walks up and down the stairs for exercise. Oh, we’re terribly sorry, sir.”
“Uh, no problem.” Mr. Gabriel stepped aside. “People with guns and badges and dogs have the right of way.”
“Did you see anyone else?” Zach said.
“No, but I didn’t go outside. I just walk the stairs. It’s dangerous out there.”
Zach nodded grimly. He didn’t know the half of it.
“This is my floor,” Mr. Gabriel said.
“Get to your apartment and lock yourself in. Violet, take Eddie and go with him. If it’s clear, I’ll come back and get you.”
Mr. Gabriel edged away. Violet hesitated.
“And if it’s not safe?”
“Tell Mr. Gabriel to call the cops.”
“But you’re the cops.”
He laughed. “Carter will tell you I’m not as good as I think I am.”
“He’d be wrong.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
Violet stood against the wall as he went by. He pushed out into the night and crouched behind a stack of pallets while his vision adjusted. The traffic noise drifted from the street; the lot appeared empty. Nonetheless, he stayed there with his gun in his hand, listening, letting his eyes adjust to the dark. A noise pricked his ears. At first, he thought what he heard was the scuffling of claws from some rat or mouse. The sound grew more definite the longer he listened.
Then there was the tiny tapping noise, like fingers poking out a text message, from behind the hulk of a dumpster to his right. Steeling himself against the smell of rotting garbage, Zach crept around, easing into every step so he would not broadcast his presence.
When he was two feet away from the edge of the dumpster, he raised his gun to firing position and readied himself.
Slow count of three, Zach.
Silently, he ticked off the time, but as he made his move, a twig snapped under his feet. A figure took off with a cry, sprinting away from the dumpster. Zach holstered his weapon and gave chase. If he hadn’t been in prime basketball shape, Zach would have lost him. As it was he barely kept pace, shouting, “Stop, police!” to no avail. They were rapidly closing in on a chain-link fence that separated the lot from the main street. The guy, clearly not Beck, didn’t slow and neither did Zach. He hurtled up the chain link like a cat, Zach right behind him, grabbing a handful of the guy’s sweatshirt and pulling him down to the ground. They rolled over the damp asphalt, the man wriggling, eel-like, and Zach doing his best to wrench his arms behind his back. He’d almost succeeded in doing so when a vicious bark made them both jerk.
Carter appeared at a run, holding a straining Frosty, who was yanking and tugging at the leash. Maddeningly, Violet stood a few feet away with Eddie.
“Get back, Vi. He could have a gun,” Zach shouted.
“Stop resisting or I’m going to send in the dog,” Carter yelled.
“No,” the man said, going suddenly still. “I’m unarmed. Don’t let the dog get at me. Please.”
Zach kept his full body weight on the guy. “I’m going to cuff your hands. If you try to get away, you’re gonna get shot or bitten. Got me?”
He nodded, eyes fastened on Frosty. Canine officers had that effect on certain suspects. Noting Frosty’s laser-beam focus, Zach could understand the feeling.
Meeting no further resistance, Zach rolled the man on his stomach and cuffed his wrists behind his back. “You can sit up. Slowly. Don’t do anything dumb.”
The man complied and Zach got a good look at him. “You work at the furniture store. You were trying to keep me from buying a table. Name?”
“Hugo Clark.”
Zach found Hugo’s phone on the ground, the last text he’d been ready to send still on the screen.
In position in back.
“Who told you to watch the building?”
Hugo grimaced. “I was helping a friend.”
“Who?”
Hugo didn’t answer.
“A guy named Beck?”
No answer.
“You know you’re going to jail?”
“What for? I didn’t do anything.”
“I’m going to trace the number you’ve been texting and find out it belongs to Xavier Beck, a wanted murderer.” It was conjecture, unlikely to happen. The phones were probably all disposable, untraceable. “You’re an accomplice.”
“I didn’t know what he was going to do. I had to help him.”
“Why?”
Hugo looked at his shoes. “Same reason I follow orders at the furniture store.”
“Who’s your boss?”
Again no answer.
Zach took a risk. It had to be connected to the mastermind running drugs through the
airport and furniture store. “Is it Uno?”
Clark’s mouth dropped open, but he quickly recovered. “I don’t know who you’re talking about.”
“I’m talking about the guy who’s running a smuggling operation here in Queens. Where can I find him?”
No answer.
“You tell me, or you go to jail.”
Hugo threw his head back. “I choose jail.”
“So be it. Stay still and don’t move or you’re the dog’s chew toy.” When another officer arrived, Hugo was bundled off. Zach walked a few paces away to confer with Carter and Violet.
He glared at Violet. “And I’m sure you have a good reason for putting yourself at risk by coming out here?”
She looked chagrined. “I was watching out Mr. Gabriel’s window. I saw Carter and I sort of followed.”
He could not trust himself to reply to her so he faced Carter. “Took you a while to get here,” Zach grumped.
Carter shrugged. “Traffic.” He lowered his voice. “We didn’t get Beck, by the way. Patrol cop said he bailed when he spotted us as your backup.”
Zach groaned. “And we’ve got another guy who’s so scared about this Uno that he will choose jail over ratting his boss out.”
“Might be a good way to stay alive, plus Victor Jones was bailed out within twenty-four hours, so Hugo’s probably figuring his loyalty will be rewarded.”
“And he’s no doubt correct,” Violet said. “But it’s all right. Beck didn’t get to me and you weren’t hurt.”
He wiped the sweat from his brow and took the leash from Violet.
No, he wanted to tell her. It’s not anywhere close to being all right.
He shot a look at Frosty, who was still staring fixedly at Hugo. “If you had released him, he would have known I was the good guy, right?”
Carter gave a nonchalant shrug and grinned. “Probably.”
Zach did not say the thoughts that scrolled across his mind.
When they drove back to the diner at Violet’s insistence late that evening, the team met him there, their collective brows creased in worry. He reported every detail that might be remotely helpful in catching Beck, but once again the guy had vanished.
“We’ve got to catch a break here sometime,” Brianne said.
A smile broke over Finn Gallagher as he looked at his phone, excitement projected on his genial face. He stood up, straightening his broad shoulders. “I think we just did, but it’s about another case. I have some news.”
“Please let it be good this time,” Brianne said. “I’m sick of the bad kind.”
“Oh, yeah. I think this qualifies. Check out the picture that was sent to our tip line.” Finn was a perpetual jokester, but this time Zach knew he wasn’t kidding around.
They all crowded around to see Finn’s screen.
Zach’s nerves jumped as he peered at the grainy photo. “That’s...”
“Snapper,” Finn finished. “In all his big, bad, canine glory.”
The image was slightly blurred, a large German shepherd caught from the side, powerful, mottled black and silver. The animal was all coiled energy, as if he was just about to sprint out of the camera view. Jordan’s police dog. It had to be.
Zach pumped his fist, overflowing with sudden optimism. “Yes, he’s survived somehow.” The elation was almost too much to contain. “Where was the picture taken?”
“Queensbridge Park,” Finn said. “We’ve got people there now, but I assume you’ll all want to head over there on your off time and look.”
“You assumed right,” Carter said.
Gavin cleared his throat. “I feel like I should advise us to exercise caution here.” He folded his long arms, brown eyes serious, though his tone was gentle. Zach had always appreciated Gavin’s thoughtful demeanor, but at that moment it rubbed him the wrong way.
“What?” Finn said. “Why?”
“It might not be what we want it to be,” Gavin said. “That’s all.”
Zach rounded on him. “You have something to say?”
“I don’t want everyone getting their hopes up. We don’t have anything definitive. There are lots of German shepherds in New York. That dog might not be Snapper.”
“There’s a harness in the photo...” Brianne started.
“Only part of it is visible, no NYPD markings. The photo is blurry. I’m being practical.”
“You’re being obstinate because you’re still angry,” Zach snapped.
Gavin’s mouth tightened. “Wouldn’t you be? If your brothers in blue accused you of murdering the chief?”
“No one accused you,” Noah said.
“Might as well. You were all ready to pin me for it.”
“There was bad blood between you and Jordy. He got the job you felt you were entitled to.”
“The job I felt I’d earned,” Gavin said. “There’s a long way from professional competition to murder. I thought you all knew me better than that.”
“It’s over,” Noah said. “We have to get past it if we’re going to function as a unit and close the case.”
“Easy for you to say.” Gavin’s expression was bitter. “You’re the chief and a Jameson. You’re not on the outside looking in.”
“Hey,” Zach said, his voice rising above the collected murmurs. “What’s important here and now is my brother’s dog. I am choosing to believe that Snapper’s alive until I’m proven wrong.”
“Me, too,” Carter said.
Noah, Brianne and Finn added their approval.
“Believe it or not,” Gavin said, “that’s what I want to think, too. We should tread cautiously is all I’m saying.”
“Fair enough,” Noah said. “Cautiously.”
Zach didn’t say anything. He intended to search long and hard until Snapper was brought home and if that meant taking risks, so be it.
If you’re alive, Snapper, we’ll find you. I promise.
* * *
Violet was thrilled to listen in on Finn’s good news from the kitchen as she busied herself with closing-up chores. She’d insisted on returning to the diner because there was no safer place. The comfort of pots and pans, the hum of conversation, the armor of an apron wrapped around her—somehow these things would protect her from the fear that robbed her of her self-confidence, one violent confrontation after another.
The long moments in the stairwell before Carter had arrived permeated her consciousness as she’d worried for her own safety and Zach’s. Beck could have been waiting in ambush. Would she ever again live a life without fear?
Zach followed her into the kitchen.
“That’s wonderful news about Snapper. When will you go out and search?”
“Brianne and Finn are going now. I’ll join them once I know you’re tucked in for the night.”
She waited for the inevitable and it didn’t take long for him to get around to the topic.
“Of course, the memorial is out of the question now.”
“I’m busy, Zach. Look at this sink full of dishes. Gotta have this place in order for the breakfast service.” She plunged her hands into the soapy water, surprised when he did the same, mechanically scrubbing the dishes and handing them to her for rinsing. They were up to the third dish before he started to hammer his point home again.
“After tonight you can see that Beck’s got help, the furniture store people, plenty of eyes on you everywhere.”
The fear balled together inside her, forming something rigid and angry. She squirted in more dish soap and slammed on the hot water. “Zach, I am going to the memorial.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Yes, I am, and your bossiness isn’t going to change that.”
He clutched a soapy dish, water streaming everywhere. “Vi, knock it off.”
“You’re the one who should knock it o
ff and stop dripping water all over the floor.”
He lowered it quickly, smacking it on the side of the sink and chipping off a piece.
“Now, see? You broke another dish.” She turned off the water with a jerk.
“With good reason. You’re making me crazy.” He was talking loudly now so she raised her voice over him.
“I wouldn’t be forced to stand my ground if you weren’t bullying me.”
“I am not bullying you. I’m just trying to get you to understand...” Zach started.
The door to the kitchen swung open and her father stuck his head in. “You two are bickering so loud we can hear it the next room. We’re all trying to plan out the Snapper search times. Can you keep it down to a dull roar?”
Zach blew out a breath. “Sorry, Lou.”
He shook his head. “No wonder Jordy used to say you sounded like an old married couple.” He took in Violet’s steely glare and raised a bushy eyebrow at Zach. “You need some backup in here, son?”
“No, sir. I can handle it.”
Her father smiled. “Oh, I doubt that, but I admire your pluck.” Chuckling, he withdrew.
Zach waited until the door closed again. Jaw clenched, he spoke in a hard, controlled tone.
“You cannot go to that memorial, Vi. It’s dangerous.”
“I know that.”
“Then make an excuse.”
She began to stack the wet, clean dishes, one at a time, punctuating with each dish. “I will not... I can not...allow these creeps to take away my life.”
“They aren’t...”
The tension of the past hours, their frantic flight down her apartment stairs, began to bubble up inside her. “They are,” she spat. “I have had to leave my job, my apartment, and I’ve had to watch you risk your safety for mine.” Tears threatened but she would not let them fall. “I won’t let them take away my final goodbye to Bill.”