IT WAS ALMOST dark when Chip heard the key turn in the front door. He closed his eyes briefly. Lana. Finally. He’d been tense while he read, listening for her footstep. Yeah, she was a cop, and maybe it was foolish to worry. She certainly thought so. But she’d been seriously upset when she had fled the house.
And that was on him. He’d sworn never to tell Lana about her brother. He’d known how much that knowledge would hurt her. Why had he done it?
Maybe it was time for all the secrets to come out. Lana needed to face the truth. And so did he. He needed to figure out his overwhelming need to protect her.
Chip closed his textbook and went to greet her, unsure what her attitude would be. Was she still pissed? Hurt? Whichever she was, they needed to clear the air. They couldn’t live under the same roof with anger and hostility simmering between them.
She entered backward, with several plastic bags of groceries dripping from both arms. He hurried toward her.
“Let me help,” he said. So, she’d gone to the grocery store. But she couldn’t have been shopping all this time.
Their gazes locked as he took the bags from her arms. She gave him a faint smile, which released some of the tension in his gut.
“Thanks,” she said.
“Are you okay?” He placed the bags on the kitchen counter and turned to face her. “You were gone a long time.”
She nodded. “I went to Moe’s and Joe’s.”
“The bar in Coconut Grove?”
Lana made a face. “Cindy’s favorite hangout.”
Stunned, he leaned against the counter. “You saw Cindy?”
“I did.”
He searched her face. “You didn’t believe me?”
“Oh, I believed you,” Lana said. “But in light of the new information, I needed to question her again.”
Chip stared at her. “I guess you are one badass cop.”
“Hardly.” She shook her head. “I shouldn’t have gone.”
“Did you learn anything new?”
“Not about Dan’s murder.”
“So, what happened?”
Lana tucked hair behind an ear and looked away. She reached inside a plastic bag, extracted a loaf of bread and then placed it on the counter. “She told me to go away and called me a bitch, which pissed me off. So I badged her.”
Definitely not what he’d expected Lana to report. “You mean you showed her your police badge?”
“Yes, I did,” she said. “Big mistake.”
Chip laughed, imagining Cindy’s reaction as Lana had flashed her police credentials. “I’ll bet that went over well.”
Another tiny smile appeared on Lana’s face. “She was a little surprised.”
“Don’t tell me you Mirandized her, too?” Chip crossed his arms, trying to picture that scenario.
“No. We don’t have to read a suspect their rights unless they’re in custody, and Cindy was free to leave at any time.”
“Did she know that?”
Lana began putting groceries inside a cabinet. “She didn’t ask.”
“But now she knows you’re a cop.”
“Yes.” Lana leaned against the counter to face him. “I hope she doesn’t tell Gary.”
“I doubt if they travel in the same circles these days.”
“You’re probably right.” Lana looked at her feet and said, “She admitted Dan hit her. What you witnessed wasn’t the only occasion.”
Chip allowed a second to drag out. “I’m sorry, Lana.”
“Yeah. Me, too. She was under the influence, so I wouldn’t let her drive home.”
“Good Lord. You took her keys?”
“I offered to drive her home, but she refused and called a cab.”
She turned, reached into one of the bags and then finished putting away the groceries. Then she leaned against the counter and eyed him. Did she want an apology? She didn’t act mad.
“Listen, Lana, I’m sorry about—”
“Stop.” She held up a hand to shut him down. “I’m glad you told me. I wish you’d told me in high school.”
“Would you have believed me?”
She sighed. “I don’t know. Maybe not. He was my older brother. I guess I thought he was perfect.”
“No one is perfect.”
“Oh, I’m aware of that now.” She made a face. “It’s just so hard to believe he beat up on Cindy, or that she let him.”
“He was everyone’s high school hero, the star quarterback.”
“I thought he loved her, but I guess love is one big, fat myth.”
“Come on. Not all men are like Dan.”
“Really? You could’ve fooled me,” she said.
Chip wanted to protest, tell her he was nothing like her brother, but she didn’t want to hear that right now. Besides, no doubt Lana was now thinking about her father, probably the cruelest man he’d ever known. He’d noticed the frequent bruises on her mother. Everyone in the neighborhood had.
As the headlights of a car flashed through their front window, she turned. The vehicle pulled into Gary’s driveway. Their neighbor had a visitor, likely the first of many on a Sunday night.
She glanced at Chip. “Hey, don’t you have to study?”
“Yeah, I’ve got more work to do, but it can wait if you need to talk.” He spread his arms. “About anything.”
“I think I’ve done enough talking for one day. I’m going to make myself a cup of tea, pull up a chair and record the license plates of Gary’s customers.”
“Are you sure?”
“Definitely.” She turned her back on him. “Go become a lawyer.”
Chip hesitated, watching her fill the teakettle with water from the faucet. “Do you want me to call your sister?”
“Why?” She looked over her shoulder at him. “Don’t be silly. I’m fine, Chip.”
But was she? He knew the signs for when she was hiding her feelings. As a kid, Lana had never wanted to talk about the subject that upset her most. When she was ten, it was the violent behavior of her dad. He’d been her best friend, and she hadn’t mentioned her parents’ divorce. She hadn’t even told him about her move until he confronted her about the U-Haul truck in her driveway.
Fine. Just effing fine. If she wanted to hide her feelings, then so be it. If she didn’t want to talk, he couldn’t make her.
If Lana wanted to behave like a hard-nosed cop, he’d let her. The woman was clueless and always had been.
And maybe he’d read her wrong. Maybe she wanted him to keep his hands off her. Well, that was fine by him, too.
“OFFICER LETTINO, REMAIN BEHIND, please,” Sergeant McFadden barked after the pre-shift briefing. “I need a word.”
Standing next to her, Patrice shot her a questioning look.
Lana swallowed hard. Shit. Even Trice didn’t know what was up.
With her heart galloping at least two hundred beats per minute, Lana moved toward her sergeant’s desk. Rudy might have uttered a sarcastic “please,” but he’d issued an order, not a request.
She stood at attention before the desk where Rudy shuffled through papers, deliberately making her sweat the reason for this command performance. But she knew the drill.
She’d done something wrong.
Rudy pushed back in his chair and leveled his glare on her. He didn’t give her the courtesy of allowing her to stand at ease. Was she in hot water for digging through the department’s database, checking out her suspects in Danny’s murder? Every keystroke left a record, but she had a plausible excuse ready to offer when asked.
“Officer Lettino, there’s been a civilian complaint about your conduct,” Rudy said.
Lana frowned, caught off guard by Rudy’s opening salvo. She searched her memory for any incident on the job that would cause someone to complain about her performance. Nothing sprang to mind.
“Who filed the beef, sir?”
Rudy glanced at his papers. “A Ms. Cynthia Arroyo.”
Oh, shit. Cindy had filed a complaint?
“Ms. Arroyo alleges you accosted her in a bar, demanding she answer questions about an eight-year-old homicide.”
Lana made fists of her hands and dug her fingernails into her palms.
“Of course, I’m certain that report couldn’t be accurate since you are not a homicide detective, are you, Officer Lettino?”
She stiffened. “No, sir.”
“So Ms. Arroyo filed a false police report?” Rudy’s voice was like granite.
“No, sir.” Lana swallowed hard. “The report was accurate.”
“I see. What the hell were you thinking, Officer Lettino?”
“That I could solve an old homicide.” Damn. Badging Cindy had been a serious error, but she’d never imagined the woman would file a complaint.
Rudy nodded and glanced again at the papers on his desk, which she realized had to be the write-up of Cindy’s grievance. She’d probably called the minute she got home last night. Or maybe she’d made the report in the taxi. If so, she’d still been drunk.
Lana’s stomach roiled. Would an Internal Affairs file be opened on her because she had questioned Cindy?
Why had Lana gone to Moe’s and Joe’s? Why the hell had she been so stupid to pull out her badge?
“Does this so-called homicide investigation have anything to do with the information you gave to the vice lieutenant last week?” Rudy demanded.
Lana blinked. But of course her sergeant would learn about her report to Vice. She needed to remember there were no secrets in this police department. Dirty cops were even being outed by the local newspaper. Thanks to the stink of fraud swirling around a few of her fellow officers, she’d get more than a slap on the wrist for pursuing her hobby case.
“It is connected, sir,” she said.
“Explain. I understand you’re doing surveillance on your neighbor?”
“I suspect he’s selling illegal substances out of his home. I thought Vice should check it out.”
“How is that connected to the murder?”
Lana swallowed. “I consider the neighbor good for the murder.”
“I see.” Rudy shook his head. “Remind me of your current assignment, Officer Lettino.”
“Patrol officer, sir.”
“Not vice detective?”
“No, sir.”
“Not homicide detective?”
“No, sir.”
Rudy placed his arms on his desk and leaned forward. “Ms. Arroyo also alleges that you wouldn’t allow her to drive home, that you accused her of being intoxicated.”
“Ms. Arroyo exhibited all the signs of intoxication,” Lana explained, on solid ground with this part of her defense. “I believed she would be a danger to others if she drove. I offered to do a roadside sobriety test, and she opted to call a taxi.”
“You witnessed her drinking inside the bar?”
“Yes, sir,” Lana said. “Ms. Arroyo walked unsteadily, slurred her words, and she reeked of alcohol. I couldn’t let her drive, sir.”
Rudy nodded and sat back in his chair, which squeaked in protest. “Did you have a drink at the bar?”
“No, sir, I did not. I went there specifically to ask her what she knew about the homicide.”
“Did you learn anything new?”
“Not really, sir.”
“I see.” Rudy sighed. “You have exhibited extremely poor judgment, Officer Lettino. Do you understand that?”
“Yes, sir. And I’m sorry, sir. It won’t happen again.” But isn’t that the story of my life? Why do I keep making bad choices?
Lana squared her shoulders, certain Rudy was about to give her bad news. Surely he wouldn’t fire her over an incident as trivial as this. And she’d kept a woman who was too drunk to drive off this county’s streets. That should count for something.
Shaking his head, her sergeant scribbled furiously on the paper before him. Lana’s stomach knotted. The paper looked like some kind of departmental form. Could it be a termination?
Rudy continued to flip papers and sign them.
She closed her eyes. So many forms. Had she lost her job? Oh God. No. She loved being a cop, assisting people in trouble, even when it got messy, working to put criminals behind bars. Police work was the only thing that she’d ever wanted to do with her life.
“Starting tonight, you’re reassigned,” he said without looking at her.
“Reassigned, sir?”
“You’re now on the three to eleven shift.” Rudy looked up and pointed the pen at her. “Go home and try to get some sleep.”
Lana nodded, unable to speak. At least she hadn’t been fired.
“And, Officer Lettino?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Try to remember that you are a patrol officer, not a detective. I’m ordering you to stick to that assignment. You don’t have the experience to investigate drug trafficking or a homicide.”
THE NEXT SATURDAY NIGHT, lights and siren blaring, Lana stopped her cruiser in front of a residence in Overtown at 10:07 p.m. She terminated the siren but left the lights circulating, creating a disorienting sequence of blue flashes in the dark.
Illuminated by a porch light, a thin black woman in her late twenties sat on the steps with a bloody cloth pressed to her forehead.
Another siren approached fast as Lana checked in with Dispatch, alerting them that she’d arrived at the scene of the call to a domestic disturbance. She narrowed her eyes on the woman on the porch. How bad was her injury? Would she need to summon paramedics?
Per departmental policy, she waited in her patrol for backup, wondering whose siren she heard, wishing for Luis, a fifteen-year veteran who loved patrol and had no intentions of ever moving to any other position.
But Luis worked her old shift and was home, watching TV with a cold beer by now. She didn’t know anybody on the new shift, which made doing her job more difficult. Trust had to be earned.
Neighbors, no doubt alerted by the sirens and lights, gathered on the street.
Another cruiser pulled up beside her. When its siren ceased, she exited her vehicle and nodded at Rafe, an officer with five years of seniority on her. She hadn’t previously worked a call with Rafe, but they’d taken their breaks together twice at the same late-night café. He seemed like an okay guy. Guzzled as much coffee as Chip.
Rafe nodded back, hiked up his gun belt and moved with Lana toward the woman on the porch. She’d arrived first on the scene, so protocol dictated she take the lead.
As she’d been taught, Lana bent her elbows and held her arms in front of her body, hands ready to grab a tool off her belt if necessary.
Anything could happen on a domestic. They were a cop’s least favorite encounter with the public.
“What’s going on, ma’am?” Lana asked the woman.
“He hit me,” the woman whined. “The bastard hit me.” She rocked back and forth and began to sob.
“What’s your name, ma’am?” Lana asked in a soothing, friendly voice.
The woman didn’t look up. “Shirley.”
“Who hit you, Shirley?”
The front door burst open and a large white dude in his midthirties staggered onto the porch, holding an almost-empty bottle of whiskey in his left hand. He had a round belly and a scraggly beard.
“Hold it right there, sir,” Lana ordered in a loud, commanding voice.
Rafe stepped beside Lana to let this dude know she had backup.
“I didn’t hit the crazy bitch,” the man said. “Don’t tell them that, Shirl.”
“Do not come any closer, sir,” Lana ordered in the same authoritative voice. “Stay right where you are. We are talking to your wife right now.”
“She ain’t my wife.” The man moved closer, and Lana moved her hand to her Taser.
“He’s intoxicated,” Lana told Rafe.
“No shit,” Rafe agreed.
“Did the bitch say she was my wife?”
“No, sir, she did not. What’s your name, sir?”
“Douglas. Douglas Swift.”
“Mr. Swift, please wait inside the house. We’ll come talk to you when we’re done with Shirley.”
“Look what you did to me, you bastard,” Shirley said and lowered the cloth to display an eye swollen twice its normal size. “I hate you.”
“Oh, boy,” Rafe muttered.
Douglas moved toward Shirley. “I didn’t do that, you crazy bitch.”
“Mr. Swift, please stay back,” Lana advised. “I am warning you not to approach this woman.”
“Or what?” Swift asked with a laugh. He raised the bottle and guzzled the rest of the whiskey.
Lana pulled her Taser and took aim. “If you step any closer, I’ll have to tase you, sir.”
Douglas Swift raised the now-empty whiskey bottle as if it were a club. The circulating blue lights reflected off the glass as he lunged toward Shirley. Shirley cowered and placed her arms over her head.
Lana fired. The charged barbs hit Douglas in the chest. He screamed in pain, went to his knees and then dropped facedown onto the porch.
“Oh my God, you killed him,” Shirley shouted.
Lana shook her head. Now she was the enemy. What else was new? Apparently Shirley no longer hated Douglas.
“Relax, ma’am. He’s not dead,” Rafe said.
Douglas moaned and twitched as if on cue.
A boy and a girl, maybe five and six years old, appeared in the doorway, staring at the downed man. The boy screamed, “Daddy,” and Lana’s heart squeezed.
“Y’all go on back to your rooms,” Shirley yelled.
Wondering how many times the kids had witnessed scenes like this before, Lana used the radio on her shoulder to summon more backup.
“It’s going to be a long night,” Rafe said.
SEVERAL HOURS LATER, Lana stopped her personal car in front of her home, closed her eyes and rested her head against the seat. She needed a moment to process what had gone down on tonight’s shift.
After Lana had calmed Shirley, the woman had asked for information about a shelter for abused women. Hoping she’d follow through, Lana directed her to the Sunshine Center.
Had her mother ever considered leaving her father? Had she known shelters were even an option?
Lana released a sigh. She had enough to worry about in the present. Thankfully she had the next two days off. The problem was that her body hadn’t yet adjusted to her new schedule.
She hated this new shift. She ought to be grateful Rudy hadn’t stuck her on midnights, which would be worse. At least she had a new superior officer, so she didn’t have to deal with McFadden’s snark every day.
The worst part of the reassignment was she hadn’t seen Chip in a week. He was asleep when she got home and left for class before she woke up the next morning. She missed seeing him, talking to him.
If she saw him, she’d be kissing him.
Then she’d be in bed with him, and that thought made her smile.
She obviously spent way too much time thinking about Chip Peterson.
Lana stepped out of the car and locked it with a quick chirp of her key fob. On her way to the front porch, she scrutinized Gary’s home. Nothing going on there right now, but customers often came as late as 2:00 a.m. on Saturday nights.
Would Vice do anything about her report? Surely they’d want to know about something as obvious as Gary’s activities.
Trying not to wake Chip, Lana stepped out of her shoes and slipped into the house. He always left a table light on in the living room for her, and she clicked it off, putting the house in darkness.
She needed the darkness tonight.
McFadden had ordered her to end the investigation. If she didn’t do as he had instructed, her search for Dan’s killer would end her police career.
But how could her mother recover if Lana didn’t find justice for Dan?
Lana moved into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. Using its light, she poured a glass of white wine and took it to her seat next to the window so she could watch the comings and goings at the neighbor’s house. Another big plus for giving up on solving Dan’s murder would be she could finally drive her police vehicle home every night and save herself a lot of time. She could get to bed closer to midnight than 2:00 a.m.
And a marked police vehicle parked in front of the neighbor’s house would have quite the chilling effect on Gary’s business.
She took a sip of wine as she contemplated her decision.
What was more important to her? Solving Dan’s murder or being a cop? McFadden had made it clear that that was her choice. She loved being a cop. It felt good to be able to help people like Shirley and her kids. Because of her, they now had a safe place to go.
An SUV pulled into Gary’s driveway. Lana raised her binoculars. Without turning off the engine, a man exited and approached the front door, which opened immediately. She heard faint voices, and then the man disappeared inside.
Damn. With the angle of the car, she couldn’t read the license. No way to ID Gary’s visitor. She took a swallow of wine and settled into her chair.
What the hell was she doing? Wasting her time, that’s what. McFadden was right. She didn’t have the chops to investigate like a real detective.
But she couldn’t give up. Not yet. She’d promised her mother not to stop until she found the murderer. She just had to be more careful. And smarter.
She’d love to get inside Gary’s home and search. No telling what kind of evidence she’d uncover. Yeah, it would be an illegal search and nothing would be allowed as evidence during a trial, but that wasn’t the point.
She’d find new leads, give herself a new direction. Could she find an open window? No way. If Gary had a stash of any contraband, he’d keep his house locked up tightly.
She’d have to break in. Or would it be possible to steal a key?
Gary’s customer climbed into his vehicle. When the SUV drove away, she was able to read the plate and jotted it down—for all the good it would do.
She hadn’t spoken to Chip in a week, so had no clue if he’d invited their neighbor over to watch the Dolphins tomorrow. But she’d see Chip in the morning and find out. Maybe they could start leaving each other notes.
What would he think about the idea of searching Gary’s home? Would he help her?
No. If she decided to search, she shouldn’t involve him. He couldn’t be part of something illegal. If things blew up and she got caught, he’d be in the clear. She didn’t want him to get into any kind of trouble because of her.
She thought about Chip sleeping in his bedroom, picturing how he would look, one muscled arm thrown over his head. Because of occasional groggy hallway encounters in the middle of the night, she knew he slept in his briefs and nothing else. So his six-pack abs would be on full display. If not the full package. She swallowed hard.
The image of his hot body lying against cool sheets created a delicious tug on her core. She emptied her wine and moved into the kitchen to pour another glass.
Between the alcohol and her exhaustion, she’d developed a slight buzz. She fantasized about how her roommate would look without his briefs.
Who would have ever thought Chip Peterson would turn out so bone-meltingly sexy? Or to be such an expert kisser? She leaned against the kitchen counter and stared at Chip’s half-open door.
Lately she’d thought a lot about getting Chip naked.
Lana took a healthy swallow of wine, placed her glass on the counter and then moved toward his door. It was time to move on with her life. Wasn’t everyone always telling her that?