by Kathryn Shay
Frankie couldn’t get to Lexy for a solid half hour. She brought in the man who assaulted his daughter and explained the situation to the desk sergeant. She was asked a series of questions as they fingerprinted and photographed the culprit. Finally, she got to sprint up the steps to the squad room. From the doorway, she saw Lexy seated in Ty’s office. He was still holding the little girl against his chest. “Hi, Lex.”
Her sister’s face was pale and her eyes wide. “Hey.”
“She okay?” she asked Ty of the child.
“Yeah, she’s been like this the whole time.” He brushed a hand down the girl’s hair. “Child services is sending someone over. People offered to take her, but she started screaming when I tried to let go.”
Frankie gave him a half smile and sat next to Lexy. “Are you all right?”
“Me? Are you?”
“Yeah. You shouldn’t worry.”
“Of course I’m worried. I’ve never seen you in action.”
“The whole scene must have been scary.”
“It was, but Frankie, you were so brave. You reacted instantaneously, without fear or hesitation.”
“There’s always a modicum of fear.” She said it before she remembered Tyrell was there.
“Absolutely,” he added. Frankie watched his big hand making circles on the back of a little pink shirt.
“Frankie?” Lexy’s voice penetrated her haze.
She had to tear her gaze away. “I’m sorry if you’re upset.” She took Lexy’s hand. “Things like this rarely happen on the street. Or thirty yards from the police station.”
“Well, that little girl’s very lucky to have you two.”
“Thanks. Do you want me to call Calla and tell her to come get you?”
“No. If you can do what you just did, I can get myself to our other sister’s house.”
“So there’s three of you.”
Lexy stood. “It was very nice meeting you, Ty.”
“And you.”
As they walked outside to wait for an Uber, she turned to her sister. “I love you, Frankie.”
“I love you, too.”
When the vehicle swerved to the curb, Lexy stopped at the door. She turned to Frankie. “He’s a good man, sweetie.”
Frankie watched her sister get in the car, shaking her head. “And a dangerous one to me.”
Chapter 4
On Sunday night, Evvie sat on Frankie’s bed, knitting and watching her pack. Her sister was efficient at everything, even this. She wore light cotton pajamas and her hair unbound, which was unusual.
As a kid, Evvie had envied the other girls with their heavy, straight or wavy hair. Hers was chestnut in color and curly. But as an adult, she’d come to like her looks: she’d put in a few highlights and with age, the locks fell in big soft curls around her face and down to her mid-back.
“I wish you didn’t have to stay overnight. We hardly ever go for a week without seeing each other.” The notion made Evvie sad.
Frankie gave Evvie’s foot a squeeze. “I hate the time commitment, too, but it’s required. I’ll miss you as much.”
“You looking forward to going?”
“I would be if it wasn’t for the other cop from my house who’ll be there. He’s a pain in the ass.”
“You haven’t mentioned him since you went to work in the Middle District. What does he do?”
Frankie frowned. “I don’t want to talk about him.” From her drawer, she took out underwear and socks. “Have you heard anything from the others?”
“From Calla. She said Whitney Dwyer’s baby is a pistol and he’s only a month old.”
“From what I hear, so is his mom. BTW, I’m going to see the Marino brothers this week.”
Their oldest sister Calla had married into a family of Secret Service agents and doctors. The five of them were fascinating.
“That’s right. Gabe and Nick do this training.” Looking down, she frowned at the stitch she’d missed. “Say hi to them for me.”
“I will.” Frankie seemed to notice she was knitting. “What are you making anyway?”
“A baby blanket. I couldn’t get to it before now.”
“Busy at work?”
“As always.”
Frankie stuffed exercise pants and shirts, plus shorts, into the plain black canvas suitcase along with two pair of sneakers, then went into the bathroom and came out with toiletries in a matching smaller case.
Evvie nodded to it. “You have condoms in there?”
“No need.”
In her best nurse voice, Evvie said, “Francesca Marcello. We promised each other we’d carry them at all times.”
“I know. But—”
“Do you have any in the house? Because I’ll go get some at mine right now.”
“Yes, I have them. But—”
Tossing the yarn to the side, Evvie moved fast off the bed, walked into the bathroom and found a box of condoms in the vanity. She drew out a handful, came back, snatched the toiletry case away from Frankie and stuffed them inside. She kissed her sister on the cheek. “I love you. I want you protected.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Then she added, “I love you, too.”
Evvie smiled. All her sisters thought she was Pollyanna, but she had a strong inner core when she needed it. The rest of the time she was, well, Pollyanna. But she was happy and could see no reason not to show it.
* * *
Frankie was thinking about the upcoming week as she walked into the station house. The hour was early, and most people routinely came in later, but she was hoping there was news on Danielle Murphy’s assault case. The girl was scheduled for arraignment today, and the judge would decide if the prosecution had enough information for them to be charged with a crime. Then the kids would enter pleas and pre-trial dates would be set. Long-term bail would be considered. Finding nothing in her email, she glanced up from her computer and she saw Captain Lincoln come in a half hour after she arrived. He crossed to her office.
“You’re here early, Marcello.”
“Loose ends before I leave for Rowley.”
“That’s right. Have a nice trip.” He started away.
“Cap?”
He turned.
“Did Danielle Murphy’s parents get a lawyer?”
“I don’t know. I heard the other two got high-powered ones.” He rubbed his thumb over his fingers, indicating they had money.
“Damn it. She’ll end up with a public defender.”
The captain frowned. “What’s wrong with a PD? They’re law-school certified. And they usually want what’s best for their clients.”
“They have too many clients at a time.”
“Nothing we can do.”
Frankie wished...
“Hi, everybody.” Tyrell joined them.
“You here too?” the cap asked.
“Loose ends.” He said to her, “Good morning, Francesca. Ready for our adventure?”
Today, he wore pressed navy jeans that hugged his long legs. A slate blue polo shirt heightened the color of his eyes. They were told to dress casually all week.
“As I’ll ever be.”
Thankfully, Tyrell headed toward his office. Twenty minutes later, he came back out. “You should leave now to be on time.”
Again, the irritation. “Thanks, Dad.”
Shaking his head, he walked away. As soon as he left, she closed her computer and strode from the office, down the stairs and out the back exit. The mid-April day was balmy, with temperatures in the seventies. A gentle sun already beat down on her.
Tyrell was standing by her car. “I thought I’d follow you.”
“Whatever.”
She slid into her practical Chevy Trax. He got in...holy shit...a sleek, silver corvette. Ignoring it, she put her hand on the ignition button. Nothing. She tried again. Nothing. She laid her head back on the cushion. Damn it. A knock on her window startled her. She opened the door slightly. “What do you want?”
“Come on, Ma
rcello, I’ll give you a ride.”
“I can’t leave my car here.”
“Suit yourself.” Turning, he crossed to his ‘Vette again, and got inside.
She checked her watch. Damn. No time to do anything else. So she exited her vehicle, grabbed her suitcase and walked to the door of his car, which he threw open from inside. She tossed her suitcase in the back and slid in the front. The smell of expensive leather, like the ones in her father’s fleet, filled her head. And made her a little homesick. So she cut off the nostalgia by saying, “Pretty nice ride for a cop.”
“I don’t usually drive it to work, but since I was taking a trip, I did.”
“Trip? It’s only forty minutes to Beltsville.”
The engine purred to life. Tyrell backed out and after ten minutes, they got on the road.
“So, how can you afford this little baby?”
“Family money.”
“That’s right, you have trust funds.”
Reminded of the hefty bank accounts she and all her sisters had tucked away, along with paid-for houses, cars and whatever else they needed, she didn’t tease him.
“For the record, I adore my family.”
Me, too. “That’s nice, Tyrell.” She took out her phone.
“What are you doing?”
“Calling an auto mechanic.”
“It’s too early to get anybody.”
Four calls later, she swore.
“I got a buddy who owns a garage. He’s a friend. He’ll answer.”
Though she hated to be beholden to him, she wanted her own car. “I guess.”
Tyrell pressed a button, then said, “Call Petey.”
A voice over the speaker. “Callahan.”
“Hi, Petey. Can you do me a favor?”
“Sure.”
No hesitation. They must be close.
He explained the situation, and Petey agreed to tow her car and fix it.
“This could cost some,” he said after he disconnected. “Can you cover it? Because I can lend you money.”
She said dryly, “Don’t worry, Tyrell, I’ll scrape together the cash somehow.”
* * *
Ty smiled over at Francesca. She was her normal, ornery self this morning, but she looked great in black jeans, a deep blue T-shirt and a hoodie looped around her neck. He almost didn’t offer her financial help, but he hated the idea of her scrimping. He had no idea what her finances were or anything else about her. So he said, “Tell me about yourself.”
She gave an exaggerated sigh. “I have sisters.”
“I know that. I met one. She mentioned another. How many?”
“A lot.”
“What does that mean?”
“Okay. I’ll tell you a few things, then no more prying.”
“Hell, Marcello, you’re so prickly.”
“Never mind then, just drive.”
He did, but he talked. “I’m from South Carolina. I have two brothers.”
“And you grew up with lots of love and pampering. You told Lexy all this.”
“You were listening?”
“I couldn’t help but.”
“Your turn.”
“Nope, I’m not playing.” Instead, she called up something on her phone and tuned him out.
After nearly an hour, because of traffic, they arrived at The James J. Rowley Training Center, went through a security gate and drove down a long and winding road until they found the main building. He parked close enough to see two men seated at a table out in front.
When he killed the engine, Francesca released her seatbelt and went for the door handle. He grabbed her other arm and held her back. Her eyes were fiery when she turned. Before she could shake him off, he said, “What you did was rude. I wanted to get to know you, let you know me. And you played on your phone so you didn’t have to talk to me. All this after I did you a favor and drove you up here.”
What he said hit home, he could tell. Regret flickered over her face, then she closed down. “What’s the matter, Tyrell, did I hurt your feelings?”
His jaw dropped.
“Now, get your hand off me and don’t ever touch me unless I ask you to.”
His eyes glinted with anger. “Ah, so you’re thinking about asking me to touch you. Don’t bother. I’m done with you.”
* * *
Ty followed behind her, trying to calm himself. Deke was right—she could be a bitch. She walked up to the table and one of the trainers bolted up. He had a runner’s build, dark hair and crystal-blue eyes. He circled around the table—and fucking hugged her. Goddamn it, she hugged him back, a full-body, wonderful-to-see-you hug. “Francesca.”
When they split apart, the other guy joined them and gave her a friendly embrace. He was muscular in a way the other guy wasn’t, with dark hair and eyes. Finally, he noticed Ty. “Hey, there. I’m Nick Marino.” The two men didn’t look much alike, even though they wore the same clothes—khaki pants and navy polo shirts.
Ty knew about the Marinos. A family of heroes. This one had guarded the president, the sought-after job in the Secret Service. Mr. Warm and Fuzzy held out his hand. “Gabe Marino.”
After greetings, Ty couldn’t stop himself from asking, “How do you know Francesca so well?”
“We were godparents together last December. My brother married her sister, and they had a baby.”
“Wow.”
“We spent a week at the—”
“I think that’s enough, Gabe.” This from Francesca. “Should we register? Get name tags?”
“Of course.” Nick took care of that. “So, did you check into the hotel outside of campus?”
“No, not yet. We’re running a little late.”
“No worries. We’re giving extra time at lunch to take care of those things.”
Nick checked his watch. “Well, it’s nine; let’s go join the others.”
They started toward the building. “Are we the last ones here?” she asked.
Gabe nodded. “Yeah, but you’re on time.”
They were led to a large classroom where about twenty people were already gathered. Ty found a seat in the back, and Francesca took one in the first row. The classroom was big with comfortable chairs, made even more pleasant by the breeze wafting in through the wall of open windows.
Gabe stood before a table in the front. “Good morning, everybody. I’m Gabe Marino, and this,” he gestured to Nick, who hitched a hip on the table, “is my brother, Nick. I hope there was enough information from the packet to let you know what we’re doing here and our qualifications for teaching you. For the record, if I was still a cop in D.C., I’m not sure I’d be happy about this kind of required training.”
Ty noticed how he let the law-enforcement audience subtly know he was once a police officer.
Smiling, Gabe asked, “Anyone here feel that way? You can be honest with us.”
About five cops raised their hands. Ty suspected there were a fraction more people thinking the same way.
“Who wants to tell me why?”
One guy, in a navy department T-shirt, spoke. “No offense, Nick and Gabe, everybody’s aware of your background, but I’ve been in the BPD twenty years. If I don’t know stuff now, I’ll never learn it.”
Nick stepped forward so he could see the man’s name tag. “Thanks, Mark, for being honest. But let me ask you, did you have training in what skills the cops need to prevent both random and targeted shootings of police officers?”
“We had self-defense classes.” This from Larry Gray, from Northwest District, known to be a troublemaker.
“Yeah,” someone else put in, “but not for anything like what’s happening to us these days. Man, two veteran cops were killed having lunch in their car a week ago.”
“We believe we can teach you to better protect yourselves.” Nick transferred his gaze to a female. “What’s your question?”
“I’ll bring up the elephant in the room. We take a lot of shit for mishandling situations. For shooting una
rmed people. Some of it might be warranted, but can you actually teach us to read a situation in seconds and act more judiciously?”
Gabe said, “We believe we can. When we were on Secret Service details, we learned skills to detect threats in split seconds. And not only during crowd surveillance. When nobody was expecting an attack.”
A tall, slender guy shot his hand up. “One of the things you said was that we’d be trained in dealing with an active crime scene. That’s what we do every day.”
“Cops are called to all kinds of situations that didn’t exist when most of you were in the academy. School shootings are one of them. Law enforcement needs additional training to handle those kinds of mass killings at active crime scenes.”
Other questions were asked and answered—very well—by the Marino brothers. When someone said, “Show us what we’re going to do,” Nick called up a Power Point slide which listed what they’d cover.
Defensive Driving
Active Crime Scenes: tactical village
Situation Assessment: individual cases and in crowds
School shootings training
Protecting the police
By the time they were led out to the first training course, the group as a whole seemed comfortable with the upcoming week’s activities. Though he couldn’t read Francesca’s mind, he bet she felt as he did—that the group needed this training.
Chapter 5
Frankie paid close attention to Gabe as he stood with the driving course sprawled behind him, speaking to the class. The sun beat down heavy on their heads, so they all wore navy caps which had been distributed to the participants.
“Professional driving is a skill needed to do your job. Yeah, I know you learned defensive driving, but we’re going to perfect those skills so no cop dies in a crash again.”
Recently, in addition to the police being attacked in their car, two DC cops had been killed in a car chase.
“You might get boxed in by perpetrators, so you’ll learn negotiating obstacles and recognizing traffic hazards. But the key to mastering the maneuvers is practice. That’s why you’re here for five full days. On-your-own practice will hone your reflexes and decision-making ability. And, like with other training, you’ll develop muscle memory and instincts that will surface unconsciously.”