Justice Betrayed

by Patricia Bradley

  “I liked Gabby. Remember what she used to say?” Without waiting for a reply, Erin spoke in a voice that mimicked Rachel’s mother. “Erin, you are the most special person I know. And don’t you ever forget it.”

  “She loved you very much,” Rachel said. She was always amazed at Erin’s ability to mimic people she’d been around.

  “Can we look at some of the angel statues?” Erin asked. “And stop at the butterfly garden?”

  Rachel checked her watch. At nine, Terri was meeting them at McDonald’s to pick up her sister and take her to get a haircut, so that gave Rachel an hour before the competition started. A portion of that time included a quick meeting with Vic Vegas to get his files. Sometimes she felt like a juggler trying to keep all her balls in the air.

  She blew out a long breath, wishing she’d put off the visit to her mother’s grave until later, but later was even busier with the grandmother outing. Plus, she’d made the mistake of telling Erin they’d go first thing this morning and hadn’t wanted to disappoint her. She’d had enough disappointment in life.“We can take about ten minutes for the angels—that way we’ll have time to stop at the butterfly garden on the way out.” In this heat, Rachel doubted they’d find any butterflies, but of the three formal gardens in Elmwood, Erin loved the butterfly garden most.

  “Good! Can I put the flowers in the vase?”

  “How about we do it together? And leave your seat belt buckled until we stop,” Rachel said as Erin unsnapped the restraint. In some ways Erin was wise beyond her years, but in others much like a child. Rachel had to be alert always.

  “I saw Elvis last night.”

  “Really? Oh, that’s right, you went to see the Elvis contest.”

  “Mmmhmm. Can I have an Elvis pin?”

  “I don’t see why not.” She took a right after they passed the cottage and wound around to where her mother was buried. If it weren’t almost ninety degrees in the shade, they would have walked. There was no place as calm and peaceful as Elmwood.

  “I want one with diamonds and—Oh, look, there’s an angel.”

  “I see it,” Rachel said, her mind on arranging flowers as she pulled off the lane onto the grass so another car could pass if need be. “Would you carry the flowers?”

  “And then can we look at the angels?”

  “Sure.”

  Once they had the flowers in the vase, Rachel stood quietly for a moment, remembering her mother. If only Rachel had gone home with her after the contest, the night might have turned out differently. But she hadn’t, and it was something she had to live with.

  “What’s heaven like?” Erin asked beside her.

  “I’m not sure,” she replied.

  “Terri says it’s a beautiful place and it’s where God lives. Do you talk to God every day?”

  “Not every day.” More like hardly ever.

  “I do and so should you. Can we go look at the angels now?”

  “In just a minute.” Rachel stared at the date on the tombstone. It was hard to believe it’d been seventeen years since her mother died. Time had passed so quickly. With a last look at her mother’s tombstone, Rachel followed Erin down the narrow road as she searched for her angels.

  It wasn’t long before Erin turned to her. “I’m thirsty. Can we go to Gallagher’s now? You know, where Boone goes? Terri can pick me up there instead of McDonald’s.”

  Sometimes she wished Erin didn’t have such a good memory. One time they had run into Boone at Gallagher’s, and he had joked around with Erin. Now she often wanted to stop by Gallagher’s when they came to the cemetery.

  “Please,” Erin said when she didn’t respond right away.

  Boone should be at the police gym getting the competition ready, so the odds of running into him were low. “I’ll have to call Terri and tell her to meet us there,” she said.

  She made the call as they walked to the car, and Terri agreed to the change. The motor was slow to crank when Rachel turned the key, and her heart sank. One of the balls she’d dropped was picking up a new car battery last night. She tried the ignition again and the motor roared to life. She had to get a battery sometime today.

  The drive to Gallagher’s was short, and a few minutes later, Rachel paused for her eyes to adjust to the dimness as they stepped inside.

  “There’s Boone!” Erin pointed her finger toward the man standing at the counter, talking to the barista.

  Boone? He should be at the gym. But no, here he was in the flesh. When Erin made a beeline for the lieutenant, Rachel sighed and followed, her heart doing that crazy little dance like it did whenever she was around him.

  Boone’s six-two frame towered over Erin, who gazed up at him with a happy grin on her lips. “Terri’s coming to get me, and I’m getting a haircut. What are you doing here, Boone?” she asked. “I bet you knew we would be here.”

  “I stopped to get some of Gallagher’s good coffee, and I didn’t know you’d be here, but I’m glad you are,” he said, winking at Erin.

  Rachel’s heart caught at the way he smiled down at the petite, childlike woman then back up at her.

  “Hello, Rachel,” he said.

  She found it hard to breathe. It’d been hard enough running into him at the monthly fitness tests or the occasional times they worked together. Now that they were working the same shift, she had to steel herself against the magnetic pull he had on her. But today . . . she just wasn’t expecting to see him this morning. Later, yes, at the gym. After she had time to prepare.

  “I’m surprised to see you,” she said, trying to keep her voice from sounding breathy.

  He turned to get his coffee, and Erin said, “Can we sit with Boone?”

  “Oh, Erin, I don’t—”

  “You’re welcome to,” Boone said. “Unless you think it might constitute a date.” Hurt darkened his eyes.

  And behind the hurt were questions. Questions she didn’t want to answer. They had gone out a few times until she broke it off when she had the chance to be loaned out to the Homicide department. He was a lieutenant and she wasn’t even a sergeant. Against protocol. But even before that, she’d realized she was in over her head. He never mentioned the word marriage, but from their conversations, it was plain he was ready to settle down, start a family. She wasn’t marriage material—been there, done that, with disastrous results.

  But looking into his dark brown eyes made her wonder if she’d done the right thing. She hadn’t run across many men like Boone, and there was no denying he made her heart do funny things. Not to mention oxygen was having a hard time getting to her brain.

  “What can I get for you?” the barista asked.

  The question cleared Rachel’s head, and she turned to the clerk. “A . . . a skinny mocha latte. Make that two.” She almost forgot Erin.

  “Come on, Boone!” Erin tugged at his hand.

  “Are you sure you have time?” Rachel asked, hoping he didn’t.

  “Oh, I think I can take a few minutes.” He winked at Rachel. “If you don’t mind.”

  Her stomach flipped. Why did he have to agree? “Of course I don’t mind, but don’t you have to get ready for the competition?”

  “I’m ready and so is the gym.”

  She’d run out of excuses. “Then lead the way.”

  Rachel followed as Erin found a table in the corner she liked.

  Boone looked around the room as Erin studied the photos around them. “Every time I come in here, I’m impressed how much Elvis stuff Gallagher’s has collected.”

  Rachel laughed. “This is nothing compared to what Nana and my mother collected. Nana has boxes of it. She’s even collected programs from the different concerts she’s attended.”

  It wasn’t long before the barista brought their drinks, and after Erin finished hers, she said, “I’m going to look at the other pictures.”

  When she was out of earshot, Boone leaned toward Rachel. “I’ve missed you.”

  “Boone—”

  “Just saying.�
�

  “We only had, what, five dates? And one of them was dinner with my dad and grandmothers.” Her father had discovered she and Boone were seeing each other and had pressured her into the dinner. She sighed and glanced toward the door, hoping Terri would suddenly materialize. No such luck. She tilted her head toward him. “Besides, you know we can’t work in Homicide together and date.”

  “You’ll only be there six more months, so maybe after—”

  “It’s not just because we work together. You want more out of the relationship than I do.”

  “I’m not going to hurt you, Rachel.”

  She dropped her gaze and worried a hangnail on her thumb. Finally she looked up. “You wouldn’t mean to, but eventually what I have to offer wouldn’t be enough.”

  “Why not let me be the judge of that?”

  “Don’t make this harder than it is,” she said. “I just can’t do it.”

  He studied her for a minute, and then nodded. “If you ever change your mind—”

  “We went to the cemetery today to visit Gabby,” Erin said to Boone when she returned to the table.

  He quizzed Rachel with his eyes.

  She’d never really talked to Boone about her mother’s death. “My mom. She . . . she died seventeen years ago tonight.” She swallowed past the lump that had suddenly formed in her throat.

  Sympathy filled his eyes. “I’m sorry. Anniversaries are always hard. Cancer?”

  “No.” She didn’t want to discuss her mother’s death in front of Erin and gave a slight shake of her head, hoping he’d take the hint.

  “Rachel doesn’t talk to God every day,” Erin said. “But you do, don’t you, Boone?”

  “All the time.” He turned to her, his eyes quizzing her.

  Her cheeks flushed and she busied herself with the latte. In the beginning, after her mom died, she had turned to God. She wasn’t sure exactly when she’d decided he didn’t hear her pleas for justice for her mother and quit praying.

  “I heard Elvis came to see you yesterday.”

  He got the hint. “Yeah,” she said. “Too bad you didn’t stay—you could’ve met him.”

  He offered her a grin. “And rob you of all the pleasure? What’d he want?”

  “This is good!” Erin said. “Can I have another one?”

  Saved by Erin. She did not want him to know she was looking into Harrison Foxx’s murder, because then he’d want to know why she was looking into a seventeen-year-old case instead of working on one of their backlogged ones. And she certainly didn’t want him to know Foxx’s murder might be a lead on her mother’s death.

  “We can talk about what he wanted later,” she said as the door to Gallagher’s opened and Terri hurried in.

  “Sorry I’m late,” she said when she reached the table.

  “You’re not late, you’re right on time,” Rachel said with a smile.

  6

  AT TEN, BOONE SURVEYED the participants entering through the doors of the Memphis Police Department gym. Rachel had arrived five minutes ago, looking none too happy. He noted other members from the Homicide division and a few from other departments. It looked as though there would be about twelve officers competing, so they should finish before eleven. The competition wasn’t mandatory, but he wished it were since fit officers made good ones.

  Boone became the driving force behind the competitions after one of his overweight detectives succumbed to a heart attack while chasing a suspect. Just as in Iraq, his officers were his responsibility, and he pushed them to work out. But it wasn’t until he started the monthly competition that they embraced the idea. Had to be the challenge.

  His heart did a number on him when he zeroed in on Rachel, who had donned a bullet-resistant vest over her workout clothes and then buckled on a gun before pulling her blonde hair into a ponytail. He’d noticed at the coffee shop that she wore little makeup, but with her flawless skin and thick eyelashes, she didn’t need it.

  He’d been attracted to her from the day they met. Why couldn’t she see they were perfect for each other? Rachel turned his way and caught him staring. Boone gave her a nod, hoping his tan hid the blush burning up his neck to his ears.

  Did she even have a clue how difficult it was for him to work in the same office with her? He’d been duty bound to inform his superiors of their former dating relationship, but he went beyond that when he reminded them she had yet to make sergeant in hopes they would not assign her to Homicide. But with her law background and excellent record in Burglary, they’d brushed aside his concerns.

  They’d been right—Rachel made a great detective, and until recently he’d been able to avoid her, working nights or the days she was off, but with one of the other officers on medical leave, he was forced to work the same shift as Rachel now.

  Not to mention they had a problem, one he would have addressed at the coffee shop if Erin hadn’t been with her. She bristled every time he made a suggestion and always questioned his directives. She thought he was micromanaging her cases, and he was. Every homicide he supervised was personal to him, and every case rested on his shoulders. He didn’t care if she thought he was a micromanager.

  Iraq had taught some hard lessons, and while Memphis wasn’t a war zone, sometimes it felt like one. If he was honest with himself, yeah, maybe he was a little harder on Rachel. She, along with every other officer, put her life on the line every time she walked out the door. It didn’t help that the department had lost two detectives this year—one to an auto accident and the other to an ambush when a drug deal went bad.

  He caught sight of her jogging in place. She was a distraction, for sure, and right now he needed to focus on the competition. Boone couldn’t figure out how she managed to beat everyone’s time each month, especially his. He worked out, did sprints and pull-ups, stood a good half foot taller, and had the advantage of being male. She shouldn’t beat him.

  A frown tensed Rachel’s full lips, and she walked his way with a certain grace in her stride, almost like a dancer.

  “Why do you have me next to last?” she demanded when she reached him.

  “Why do you ask?” he said. As usual, she had her guard up. Sometimes it was hard to remember the gentler side he’d seen when they were dating.

  “Elvis didn’t show, and I’m hoping he’s just running late. I want to get back to the CJC in case he shows up.”

  “Did you try calling him?” He wasn’t moving her to a different spot. She was right where he wanted her—just before him.

  “Yeah, no answer.”

  He glanced down at the twelve entries. This wouldn’t take an hour. “We’ll be done just a little past eleven. Call and leave word at the front desk for him to wait if he comes in.”

  Her frown deepened.

  “Tell you what, if you get a call that’s he’s there, I’ll put you in right away.”

  Rachel didn’t quite mask her annoyance, but she gave a short nod and started to walk away. She turned around and arched her neck, managing to look down her nose at him even though he towered over her. “I’m surprised you didn’t put me last. But then, you wouldn’t know what time you had to beat, would you?”

  She’d always been good at reading his mind. He shifted his gaze from the hazel eyes that glinted a challenge. They both knew she was the one to beat today. He’d have to shave five seconds off his time to even beat her last run. Maybe today she’d be slower. In his dreams. “Today’s the day, Detective.”

  “Excuse me, Lieutenant. Didn’t know we were being so formal. Or maybe you were trying to intimidate me?”

  “Now why would I do that?”

  A whistle blew, and she shook her head. “Can we get back to this later?”

  “Sure,” he said, and they both turned toward the timekeeper as he called for the first competitor, who looked like he might have played linebacker in college. Boone was pleased when she remained close by. “Know him?”

  She nodded. “Jones. Worked with him in Burglary. Usually clocks in aroun
d two and a half minutes.”

  So she kept up with everyone’s time. Boone pulled up the stopwatch app on his phone. When the whistle blew again, he started the clock, aware of her presence beside him. He shifted his attention back to the runner.

  Each contestant ran the same course—two laps around the perimeter of the gym while performing activities that a police officer might engage in during a foot chase. Jones made the first round of obstacles easily, then stumbled after clearing a four-foot-high balance beam on the second round. He dashed to the steps and climbed up then down and rounded the second turn to the four-foot cube.

  “He lost a few seconds there,” Rachel pointed out, her voice all business as Jones had trouble getting over the cube.

  He missed the easy camaraderie they’d once had, but what did he expect? Maybe this was as hard on her as it was him and it was her way of coping. Maybe the brass was right in banning relationships in the office. Except it was too late to turn back the clock. So he better get his act together.

  At the end of the course, a 150-pound dummy waited to be dragged to the middle of the gym. Jones struggled with getting a handle on the dummy. As soon as he pulled it across the line, Boone glanced up at the time on the scoreboard. Two minutes, thirty-one seconds.

  One after another the officers ran the course. He glanced toward the clock. They would finish well before eleven. Should make Rachel happy. When it was her turn, the time to beat was a minute and forty seconds—the same as Boone’s best time. He raised his eyebrows. “I see you didn’t get a call.”

  “But I could have.” She tilted her head, her eyes warming to a soft almost-brown. “Wouldn’t care to make a wager on whether you’ll beat my time, would you?”

  Rachel appeared to have had an attitude adjustment, but why? Possibly an apology for her annoyance a few minutes ago? Boone gulped down the catch in his throat. He’d take it regardless. “Gambling, Detective Sloan? That’s illegal.”

  “Only if money is involved.”

  “What do you have in mind?”

  “That old car of mine you think I should get rid of? It needs a wash job. How about if I beat your time again, you’ll detail it?”