“I guess you’d like a briefing on the homicide last night?”
“Whatever you think Sergeant. It’s your sandbox.”
As he said it his eyes danced. Her sandbox? Had she said that to him yesterday? Or had she only thought it? She gave him the rundown on Dumpster Doe: “We’re pretty sure the John Doe is a perp from a molestation case I worked last year. Like the other two homicides, this guy barely got a slap on the wrist because the victim was too young to testify.”
“How young?” Jake asked, his face hardening.
“Eleven months old,” she said without blinking.
“Jesus,” Jake ran his hand through his hair.
Charlie remained impassive. “He died from an internal infection four months later but the medical examiner’s office and the DA said they didn’t have enough to prove a connection to the repeated rapes.”
Jake held up a hand. “One minute.”
“Too much for you, Agent?”
He shot daggers at her with his eyes. “I’ve never worked Crimes Against Children, Sergeant. I just asked for one minute.”
“Of-of course,” she stuttered, feeling like a superior shit. She was a complete phony. Two years of working these fucked up cases hadn’t hardened her in the least. If Jake Adams wasn’t sitting right in front of her she could have easily burst into tears over what Alex Jordon had done to that baby.
Charlie spoke softly. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to come across as jaded. It’s just that, well, if you shed one tear, you’ll shed a thousand . . . so the trick is to never let yourself shed that first one.” Her eyes teared up in spite of her words.
Their eyes locked. They communicated without speaking; held each other up without touching and kept each other from crossing over. He held her stare until she was steady. She nodded to him, letting him know that she had it under control and thanking him for the support. He nodded back in understanding. It was as if they were partners who had worked a hundred horrific scenes together. “Thank you,” they both said to each other at the same time.
“Would you mind if I looked at the case files from the first two homicides?”
“Sure. Let me get them for you,” she said taking a deep breath to steady herself. She went to Clint’s desk to look for the two homicide case files. As usual, Clint’s desk looked like a grenade had exploded on it. She moved a few files around and suddenly felt Jake’s presence behind her. Silent but undeniable. She felt her face flush, knowing without turning around that Adams was standing behind her and she started to ramble. “I know this looks bad,” she said apologizing for Clint’s desk without addressing Adams directly.
“My senior detective, Clint McCallister, actually knows where everything is. I don’t, but he does. I forgot my secret decoder ring today so I’m having some difficulty,” she quipped as she continued to look through the sea of papers and files. Out of the corner of her eye she was pleased to see that she had gotten a grin out of him. Good. He was coming down too. She was completely mesmerized by his mouth. His lips were full and just the right size for his large square face and dimpled chin. Not like “a little butt” chin, just the tiniest cutest little point right in the middle. His mouth seemed to be in a perpetual half smile, like a golden retriever. She located the files and turned to see him still grinning at her.
“What?”
Jake tightened his lips, raised his eyebrows, and shook his head. Still grinning, he followed her back to her office. Jake knew he was having an effect on her. She was flustered and rambling. This was his power over women and he used it well and on many occasions, but now there was a twist; she was having an effect on him too. He wasn’t used to this and though he was allowing himself a few moments of pleasure in it, he was not particularly amused.
“There’s a conference room there to the right,” she motioned. “You can spread out in there.”
“Will you be joining me?”
“I’ve already read them from stem to stern Adams, and I’ve got payroll time sheets to do,” she said meeting his disappointed eyes. Golden retriever eyes. Damn.
“Oh, come on, I’ll get you set up.”
When she opened the door to the conference room there were six detectives huddled around the conference table including senior detective Clint McCallister. They all had investigative case files in their hands.
“I’ll trade you one burglary for two robberies,” the short detective with the pointy nose was saying to Clint.
“No way!” Clint squealed, incredulous, “You don’t even have any suspects! I’ve got video on both these mopes. It’s just a matter of time before I close both these cases with arrests.”
“But those are small-time Mom and Pop robberies,” the short detective countered, “this is a high-profile burglary. Think of the press. You’ll get all the glory!” he said, knowing Clint’s affinity for press. Charlie watched as Clint lit up at the thought of a photo op. God how she hated pretty policemen. Paging Hollywood.
“Gentlemen,” she said sternly, “You know, I don’t just throw a dart when deciding to whom a case will be assigned. I actually have a fairly complex . . .” and they all chimed in; “complex methodology for case assignment designed to tap your strengths and maximize case closure,” then they burst out laughing. Charlie couldn’t suppress her laugh; a laugh that almost brought Jake Adams to his knees.
“Oh, you’ve heard that one. Get out, you knuckleheads, I need this room. McCallister, don’t you have an autopsy to get to?”
They continued to snicker and snort as they grabbed their case files and filed out one by one. They smiled as they passed their sergeant and gave the once over to the unidentified preppy-man beside her.
A short legged, hobbit-sized detective glanced back at the tall stranger and then whispered to Clint, “If my head were that far from my feet, I don’t think I could walk.” Clint chuckled, rolled his eyes, and tried to ignore the hair standing up on the back of his neck.
Jake knew what Charlie was doing, and he did not take the bait. He was not going to give her the satisfaction of addressing the fact that she did not introduce him to her men. You’re in charge. Jesus, I get it, he thought, exasperated. Finally, he started to relax a little. He reminded himself that all female officers are control freaks. It was good that he caught on to this early so he wouldn’t get pulled further under her spell.
Jake Adams was very good at wresting control from those who felt the need to be in charge, especially women. Women who had no idea that, from a very primal place, the last thing they truly wanted was to be in charge. He knew that what they really wanted was to surrender. Charlie was just like the others. Prettier maybe, smarter and more enchanting but she was just more of the same. He could handle this. He could handle her.
Just then Officer Heather Hinson slinked down the hallway, making a beeline for the new stud in the bull pen. Heather was the agency’s Crime Prevention Officer. She spent all of five minutes working the street, eighteen months by police standards, before the chief tapped her for the cushy P.R. assignment because of how good she would look on camera. Upon her arrival, all of the detectives immediately stopped in their tracks, each of them trying to pull in their stomachs and stand a little taller like a scene out of Caddy Shack. Charlie suddenly felt invisible, as she always did in Heather’s presence. Heather was petite, thin, blond, and stunning and man did she know it. Her stunning . . . me cute. Got it.
“I heard we had a federal agent in the house,” she cooed, “Officer Heather Hinson,” she said, batting her eyes and offering her downward hand as if she were royalty.
“Nice to meet you,” Jake nodded toward her without making direct eye contact, taking her hand, or giving her his name.
“Sarge, you coming?” he smiled at Charlie as he moved his massive frame through the door and into the conference room without looking back at Heather.
“Oh, well, guess you guys are bu
sy, huh? All this murder and mystery!” Heather said and giggled nervously as she scampered away, clearly unnerved at being ignored. As the other detectives locked their eyes on her departing scamper, Clint sidled up to Charlie and said discreetly, “Close your mouth Sarge, you look like you’re missing a chromosome.”
“Did you see that Clint? She had no effect on him. What the fuck?”
“She always has an effect on me. Yum. Yum,” Clint growled. Charlie stomped on his foot.
“Ow! How the hell should I know? I guess he’s either gay or in love,” Clint said with a shrug.
“Hmmm,” Charlie said, absentmindedly as she entered the conference room.
Charlie settled Jake into the conference room where he remained for the next two hours reviewing the cases. She blew off the few questions from Clint about why his case files were being reviewed by the “pretty boy with the high dollar wardrobe” by reminding him that he had an autopsy to attend to and a report to write from last night, but she knew that Clint knew. Fucking fed.
Chapter 10
The Anchor
At noon Charlie started to wonder why Jake Adams had not returned to her office to dazzle her with his brilliant over-educated Federal insight. Maybe he reviewed the files and left? She wondered, as a pang of disappointment washed over her. She finally couldn’t stand not knowing and casually walked by the conference room with a stack of paperwork where she could see he was repackaging the two case files.
“Sergeant Cavanaugh,” he called to her. She drew a quick breath.
“Thank you for accommodating me,” he smiled appreciatively and handed the case files back to her. “Look Sarge, I know this is going to be . . . delicate,” he said, “let’s get some lunch so we can talk some more.”
“I don’t usually eat lunch,” she replied without making eye contact as she took the files from him and walked them back to Clint’s unmanned desk. When she returned to her office she found Jake sitting there waiting for her and looking determined. Charlie sat down at her desk and tried to look bored. She was still puzzled over his disinterest in Hot Pants Heather but was trying to play it cool.
“So Super Fed, what do you think?” she smiled a tight smile.
Jake got up, walked around her desk, yanked her chair out and said, “I’ll tell you what I think. I think you shouldn’t skip lunch Sergeant. Let’s go. Now.”
“Fine,” she said, trying hard not to look as rattled as she felt. She grabbed her police radio and coat. “I’ll drive and you’re buying.”
“Yes ma’am,” he grinned.
Charlie drove them to her favorite restaurant, hating herself for wanting to impress him. She ran the first traffic light as it turned from yellow to red, calling it “pink,” tailgated the slow drivers that wouldn’t move out of the left lane and “California rolled” three stop signs.
Jesus, Jake thought, I know the car is unmarked but there is still a spotlight on it. It still looks like a police car. Charlie was a lousy driver. Thank God, he thought. She may be adorable, smart, and a crack shot, but she can’t drive worth a shit. That helped.
The Anchor was an institution in Landon. A U.S. Navy themed restaurant owned and operated by genuine American hero, Colonel Frank Fortune. Thompson had introduced her to the frequent cop stop and she had been coming here ever since. Eleven years now.
“How long have you been coming here?” he asked, reading her thoughts again.
“Over a decade,” she said proudly. She loved the familiarity of the Anchor and the way Colonel Fortune always made such a fuss over her. When they arrived, Jake rushed past her to open the door. Well that was nice, she thought.
“Sergeant Cavanaugh herself!” the colonel exclaimed as she walked in. The colonel looked distinguished and debonair as always in his blue blazer and off-white turtleneck sweater. He greeted Charlie with a huge hug that made Jake frown and raised his temperature a few degrees. Turn her loose, he thought involuntarily and tried to control the fire he knew was lighting in his eyes.
Charlie flashed a smile she reserved only for Colonel Fortune. “Colonel, it’s always so nice to see you.” She beamed in the colonel’s presence. Her eyes were soft and sparkling. Wow, Jake thought, what he wouldn’t give to be on the receiving end of that smile.
“Colonel this is FBI Agent Jake Adams. He’s been detailed to the PD so you might be seeing him around a bit.”
“Ahh, the serial,” the colonel said gravely. Geez. Everybody had an opinion on this case.
“Well, welcome aboard Agent and I do hope you will come and see us often while you are in town. Where are you staying Sir?”
Jake looked uncomfortable for a moment and then said, “I’m, uh, over at the Radisson on Langley.”
Charlie frowned.
“Hmm. I guess the Feds really know how to take care of their people,” the colonel chided.
“That’s six blocks from my apartment,” Charlie said to no one in particular. “And the most expensive hotel in Landon.”
“Well, I guess you two will be carpooling then,” the colonel said, winking at Charlie. “Traffic in this town is a nightmare, Agent, especially in the summer when everyone heads for the beach. Let me show you to your table.”
Jake was visibly moved by all of the medals and glass encased weapons and photos of the colonel with famous politicians, war heroes, and even movie stars that adorned the walls of The Anchor. As they sat down at their table, Jake looked upward and noticed the hundreds of police patches that covered the vaulted ceiling.
“This is quite a place,” Jake remarked.
“He’s quite a man,” Charlie said softly.
Jake couldn’t believe how Charlie had transformed since entering the restaurant. She was demure and childlike in the colonel’s presence. Jake was mesmerized.
“Please excuse me, but the tax payer in me is just a tad put off. The Radisson?” That was quick. The sergeant was back.
Jake held up his hand before she could expound. “Not all things are what they appear Sergeant.” Talk about your understatements, he thought, darkly. “Headquarters gives me a lodging stipend and I can either fully cover a room at the Comfort Inn or I can add to it out of my own pocket and stay someplace nice. I prefer the latter.”
When she eyed him suspiciously, clearly unsatisfied by his answer, he continued, “Look, it’s just me. No wife, no kids, I don’t travel or have any expensive hobbies or fetishes so this is how I like to spend my money.” He regretted that he brought up the no wife and kids part, having meant to keep her guessing on that one. He wanted to make her ask, intrigued by how she might broach the subject.
“Fetishes?” Charlie raised an eyebrow and smiled, breaking the tension. She blushed. Jake laughed and shrugged his shoulders. God she was getting to him.
Charlie momentarily felt sadness for him. Could he possibly be as alone as she was? Could anyone? She wondered if men handled loneliness differently than women. Perhaps they even enjoyed it. Lucky bastards.
“I’m sorry Jake. Yes, of course that makes perfect sense.” A sudden pang of shame drove her to change the subject. “You know, I’m actually glad you dragged me out for lunch. I have been meaning to come see him for weeks,” her eyes softened and her voice warmed as she spoke of her sadness and affection for the man. For the first time, maybe ever, Jake felt a tug at his heart instead of his nether region.
“Colonel Fortune’s wife passed away in early January and I haven’t seen him since the funeral,” Charlie confessed. “I don’t know what has kept me at such a distance. I adore this man. He’s like a father to me. It’s all just so sad. They were a team. He looks good though,” she mused quietly, as though talking to herself. The waiter took their orders and the colonel stopped by to make sure they were being well looked after.
“Absolutely,” she said smiling her colonel-only smile. “How are feeling Sir? You look well. How are you adjust
ing without your Addie?”
The colonel glanced at Jake, and Charlie immediately regretted asking him such a personal question in front of a stranger. Why did she always have to be the bull in the damn china shop?
The colonel, ever gracious, smiled and responded with his trademark charm, wit, and class. Rubbing his chin, he said, “Well Charlotte, my dear, after sixty-two years in captivity, adjustment is an understatement, but I find that I am managing better than I expected thanks to friends and family. Of course, I worry what it will be like a few months down the road when all the kind notes and visits stop, but as long as I have this place, I know I will never be alone and I know she will always be close by.” He nodded to his wife’s picture on the massive mahogany bar. Then, to Jake he winked and said, “And as long as beautiful, single women like Charlotte keep coming here, I’ll be young forever.”
Charlie cringed. Oh my God Colonel, no matchmaking. Good looking and good FOR me are not the same thing. She knew the colonel hated that she was alone and that he thought her ex, who was too cowardly to cross the threshold of The Anchor since the split, was a world class putz, but this was not the time, nor the man.
Jake was drinking in the softer side of Sergeant Charlotte Cavanaugh and loving it. She was letting him in. Maybe not on purpose, but she was letting him in just the same. They ordered their meals and Jake assumed the next topic of discussion would be the cases at hand, but he was wrong.
“So, what is your story Agent Adams? Sorry, Jake,” she corrected herself and smiled at him.
“Funny, I was just about to ask you the same thing.”
“I asked you first,” she said grinning. He looked a little lost for a moment and she was worried she had done it again.
Stand by for breaking china.
The Hooker, the Handyman and What the Parrot Saw Page 5