Amber Alert, page 21
“It doesn’t make a difference who it is,” I say, my cheeks heating. I wonder if I have given myself away already.
“I guess you’re right. Good night, Ann.”
* * * *
When I come home to my apartment, I turn on the radio and leaf through some take-out menus, settling on pizza. There’s still some beer in the fridge. Waiting for the delivery, I walk into the bedroom, smiling at the sight. I open the curtains even though it’s going to be dark in a couple of hours, and strip the sheets off the bed. Laundry can wait until tomorrow, but I’d like to sleep in fresh sheets tonight.
What am I going to do? It was never a serious question, and I’m not certain that it is now. The new case has to be serious when Cal declares it so clearly his last, or does this have more to do with Georgia leaving for Chile?
Maybe he has just as much of a hard time being alone as I have. We make a good team…in many things. Living together would be on a whole different scale.
The delivery guy arrives and I give him what’s probably his biggest tip for tonight. It doesn’t matter so much what happens—it’s the fact that there are options on the table for a real change. It’s exciting.
In the living room, I stand in front of the family pictures on the shelf, Mom, Dad, Chrissie, Rachel and Rosie.
I could do this.
See, Mom, maybe this is my “happy” after all? Maybe I shouldn’t be so melodramatic about it, just go for it. This is not just about figuring out how Cal and I would handle shared quarters, it would be a big change on the job too. New opportunities?
This could be my turn.
I don’t often have nightmares, but they sometimes come to me when a case has ended, part of the closure, I assume.
Of course, it’s a reminder that the world will never be completely safe, no matter how many of the bad guys we put behind bars. I dream of burning buildings, crumbling structures, screams. After that, it takes me a long time to go back to sleep, but I find comfort in remembering the happiness I witnessed today. A few hours from now, the daylight will chase away all disturbing images.
* * * *
The next day, Joey and I investigate a shooting in the warehouse district, the victim a male, late twenties, wearing jeans and sneakers. He was shot three times.
“Didn’t you say something about paperwork?” Joey asks, which sounds like a rhetorical question to me.
There’s no ID on the murder victim, no money, but when I turn to take a closer look as his arms, I find the tattoo on his wrist. It seems to signify some kind of—cloud?
After the medical examiner gives his okay and the body is transported to the morgue, we proceed to examine the warehouse. It’s mostly clean except for the blood and the bullet embedded in one of the shelves that hold furniture in easily transportable pieces. More crates stacked on the far wall hold screws and nails. It’s the property of a furniture chain that delivers all through the state.
By afternoon, we have an ID, an employee named Luke Stratton. His boss, co-workers, and eventually, the shocked girlfriend have no idea why anyone would want to kill him. Stratton shared an apartment with her, never came home late, never missed a day at work.
In the evening when we call it a day, I’m confident that we have all the puzzle pieces and just have to put them together the right way. The cloud tattoo might fit in there somewhere. The girlfriend says that he got it before they met, and he never told her what it meant.
The case is still on my mind when I walk to my car after a few post-work errands.
Tomorrow, a new case will officially begin for Cal too, one that I assume is tougher than Joey’s and my current one.
“Hey. How are you doing?” I ask, aware that my heart just skipped a beat. I’m happy to hear his voice—not that I had a lot of time to think about his idea. Maybe I don’t need it.
“I’m good. You?”
“Yeah. New case here too.”
We are both silent. I’ve reached my car, put my bag in the trunk and walk to the driver’s door.
I haven’t felt this calm in weeks, and all of a sudden it doesn’t seem all that hard to make a decision.
“What’s your verdict?” Cal asks. I smile.
The popping sound on the other end is completely out of context, so strange that for a moment I think it’s some kind of speakers nearby.
That sound again. White noise follows. “Cal?” I clutch the phone tighter, frozen, as the pieces come together. “What’s going on? Cal!”
I hear the sound of breathing.
“Hello?” There’s a tinge of hysteria to my voice. “Who’s there?” The connection is interrupted.
“No.” With shaking hands, I punch in the numbers. It takes only minute until I get Martinez on the phone, to me, it feels like an eternity.
“Detective. What can I do for you?”
She’s incredulous at first, worried when I’m finished.
“I’ll follow up on that, I promise you. I’ve got to go. I’ll get back to you.”
I get into my car, leaning forward until my forehead touches the steering wheel, and I cry.
I stay there until she calls me back. I thought I was reasonably calm. Martinez’s first words are “I’m sorry,” and the world turns grey.
* * * *
Chrissie came with me today. I guess in the past few days I’ve given the expression that I could use someone to lean on. I’m not depressed, just still stunned, with these questions running in my head day and night.
Who? Why? Cal was about to start the job the next day, but of course you don’t hop into an undercover assignment without preparation, which could take months. What went wrong?
Lieutenant Walsh has a few words for me too.
“I’m sorry, Detective. You and Special Agent Davis often worked closely together, I know this is tough on you.”
I’m grateful for the sunglasses.
“Ann. I don’t know what to say. I’m sorry.” Joey draws me into a brief embrace, making me feel even more miserable. I assume that was not his intention, but the result is the same. It’s ironic that people come up and talk to me, almost as if more people here know me than they know Georgia.
I look around, the many co-workers, family, Cal’s mother, the kids. Georgia.
Our eyes meet, and she comes over to us.
I wish I could walk away, but that is not an option. Up close, I can see that her eyes are rimmed with red, but other than that she looks immaculate in her knee-length black dress, coat and the hat with the small veil.
“I need to talk to you,” she says.
I shrug. “Sure.”
“I’ll wait in the car if that’s okay…?” Chrissie asks, giving me a concerned look.
“Don’t worry,” Georgia assures her. “I won’t take long.” She waits until Chrissie is out of earshot, then leans close as if to make sure no one can overhear.
“I want you to find who did this.”
I did not expect that. I just stare at her, wondering if she was really serious about leaving Cal and going to Chile, if she had any idea what his plans were. It’s a terrible thought.
“The FBI will investigate—”
“No,” she cuts me off sharply. “Of course they will, that is not the point. One day, someone will make this case less of a priority and it will become a cold case.”
“Cal was one of their own. I’m sure they will do whatever it takes…”
“I trust you to do whatever it takes.”
The mere idea makes my head spin.
“Georgia, you don’t know what you’re saying. I’m not with the FBI. I have a day job and—”
“You loved him.”
People are filing out of the church now, jostling me every now and then. I feel like I can’t breathe.
“You don’t have to apologize,” Georgia says matter-of-factly. “This is hard. You’re the last person on earth I’d want to ask for this, but you’re also the only one I trust. Cal always said that you’re a good cop, that he’d trust you with his life any time. Prove it.”
I take a gasping breath before I finally have enough air in my lungs to form words.
“I’ll see what I can do.”
Georgia nods. “Keep me updated.”
I walk away, out onto the parking lot, to the car where Chrissie is sitting behind the wheel, and climb in next to her. I lean back, thinking of the promises I’ve made, the lines I’ve crossed when it was about family.
I take off my sunglasses and put them in the glove compartment. We’ve had a lucky streak, bringing all those children home, including Rosie. That matters. Sometimes we lose…but this isn’t over yet.
Chrissie lays her hand over mine. “Let’s go home first.”
“Sounds good to me.”
I’ll spend some time listening to a two-year-old’s laughter, remind myself that there are some things left that are good in this world. I’ll schedule a meeting with Martinez later tonight.
I have a habit of keeping my promises, and this time will be no exception.
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My titles on Amazon:
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Suspense
Killer Instinct
The Amnesia Project
Secrets
The Carpenter/Harding thrillers:
1. Indiscretions
2. Insinuations
3. Incisions
4. Intrusions
5. Initiations
6. Intentions
7. Infatuations
8. Impressions
Jayce & Emma (romantic suspense)
1. Halfway Home
2. Familiar Places
3. New Rooms
4. Close Quarters
5. Honeymoon Suite
Paranormal/Suspense
Rise
Romance
The Interpretation of Love and the Truth
The Design of Everything Perfect
Open Spaces
Callie & Rebecca:
1. Autumn Leaves
2. Winter Storm
3. Spring Fever
4. Summer Wine
Utopian/Dystopian
The Exodus Strategy
Cypher
Barbara Winkes, Amber Alert
