Second in Command, page 16
part #1 of Fairview Station Series
“When are you going in?”
“After midnight when everybody is stoned out of their minds. Can you make it?”
Jazz checked her watch. “I’ll catch the next flight. And thanks, Travis. I owe you.”
Two hours later, she stepped out of the airport terminal in Atlanta. At six feet tall and always wearing a baseball cap to cover his partially balding head, Travis was easy to spot over most of the people waiting for travelers.
He waved as she walked toward him and pulled her into a hug. “Damn, you’re a sight for sore eyes, girl. It’s been a while.”
“How’s it going?” Jazz slung her backpack into the back seat of the Hummer. “Obviously APD pays much better than GPD, or have you finally gone over to the dark side?” At SPI, they’d planned the perfect faux drug heist so they could retire to the Bahamas, like homicide cops planned the perfect murder.
“Asset forfeiture vehicle, the only way we can afford undercover cars. You look the same, maybe a bit grayer in that skunk streak of yours.”
“Ha, ha. Are we all set for the raid?”
“Of course.”
“And where did you get your information about the girl?” Her pulse raced with the prospect of going on a narcotics raid for the first time in years and possibly finding Shea and returning her to the Robinsons.
Travis grunted. “Same old Jazz, straight to business. My informant has been reliable in the past, so I’m hopeful, but you know how these things go. We’ve got a couple of hours before we head out. Something to eat?”
“Sounds perfect.”
Travis filled her in on the narcotics case and the players involved in the operation while he drove. “We’ve been working with DEA, so it’s a pretty big deal.” He pulled in front of an overnight café that resembled an old Airstream travel trailer and glanced at Jazz. “Wipe that skeptical look off your face. You’re going to love this place.”
Travis was right. Jazz pushed her empty plate aside thirty minutes later, pulled her coffee cup closer, and leaned back in the booth. “Found a wife yet, Travis? I’m anxious for some godchildren to spoil.”
“Trying to nail down a little filly by the name of Cynthia. You?”
Jazz felt the familiar tumble inside when she thought about Emory. “Not really.”
“Your face says you’re holding out on me. Who is she?” Jazz couldn’t look at Travis. “Or is it more than one?” She stared out the café window. “It is. You dog.”
“I’m not really dating, dating anyone.”
Travis waited until the waitress topped up their cups from a fresh pot of coffee. “But you’re sleeping with more than one, right? Come on, pal. I’m on restricted rations.”
Jazz laughed but it sounded more like a nervous cough. “No, I’m not sleeping with either of them. It’s complicated.”
“Since when aren’t women complicated. What’s the problem?”
“I’m really interested in this lady, Emory, who is beautiful, full-figured, erotic, but a little insecure. And there’s this other woman, Karen, who’s lean, sexy, and assertive, that I have to work closely with on a case.”
“Ah, I get it. Competition.”
“Not really. I want to see if Emory and I can have something real, but working with Karen is complicating things. I did mention she’s assertive and that pushes Emory’s buttons.”
“No problem. Fuck one and marry the other and get me some godchildren.”
“I’m certain fucking one would exclude marrying the other. They’re on opposite sides of a privatization issue and basically hate each other,” Jazz said. “Besides, I only want Emory.”
“Then go for it, pal. Don’t let a one-night stand keep you from getting your happily ever after, no matter how tempting this Karen is.” Travis nudged her foot and made eye contact. “Take it from a guy who’s been there and done that.” She nodded. “So, where do you stand on the privatization issue? Is that going to be a problem with your woman?”
“I’m not sure yet. There are pros and cons to each.” She didn’t relay her recent conversation with Emory about the stats, which had pushed her more into Emory’s camp.
Travis slid the check off the end of the table and nodded toward the door. “I’ll meet you at the car after I pay and hit the head.”
Jazz stood outside the diner staring at the Atlanta skyline and considering what she’d told Travis about Emory. It was the first time she’d admitted aloud that she wanted to explore her relationship with Emory, to see if they could have a future, and it felt good, right even.
Travis burst through the café door. “Gotta bolt. They’ve just finished the briefing, and we’re due in position in fifteen minutes.”
Jazz raced Travis to their vehicle. “What’s our assignment?”
“Securing the front door after the entry team gets inside. Hope you brought your vest.”
Jazz reached into her bag on the back seat and pulled out her heavy flak jacket, ripped the Velcro flaps down that read POLICE, and strapped the vest around her. She slapped the front metal plate. “Good to go.”
Travis stopped behind a warehouse, two blocks from the raid location, and killed the headlights. The rest of the team mingled waiting for the go order. A group of four officers, probably the leaders of each team, huddled over the hood of an SUV. Travis motioned for her to follow. “Guys,” he nodded toward her, “this is Lieutenant Jazz Perry from North Carolina. She’s here to take the girl home, if she’s in there.”
The commanding officer shook her hand and pointed to the photograph of the outside of the target building and the raid plan, confirming she knew her assignment. “Any questions?” These officers knew what was expected of them and how to deliver. The excitement of pending battle thickened the air. “Let’s do this.”
Jazz followed Travis into one of two large black vans, the first carrying the larger entry team, and theirs the security and search teams. She breathed deeply as they started to move, repeating her ritual during high-risk situations of ticking off the things she wanted to do before she died. Her priority was always the same, get married and raise lots of children.
The van screeched to a stop, and the doors slammed violently open. Jazz’s vision tunneled on the entry team sprinting toward the front door of a single-story home. A loud crash echoed down the quiet street, and officers rushed inside to a chorus of Police, search warrant. Jazz ran beside Travis, and they flanked the door after the search team entry.
“Gets the blood flowing, am I right?” Travis asked.
Jazz nodded, unable to speak until her heart rate and breathing settled. The yells from inside indicated the officers had located several occupants but no drugs. “Doesn’t sound good.”
“You know how it goes. They stash dope everywhere. We’ll be guarding this door for hours until they’re finished. Never give up.”
Jazz wasn’t giving up until they’d searched every inch of the house and the officers came out with eleven-year-old Shea Spencer. She didn’t have to wait long.
“No kid in there,” one of the entry team said when he stepped outside and shucked off his armor-plated vest.
“Are you sure?” He cut her a how-dare-you-question-me glare. “No disrespect, but the informant said she was here.”
“And informants never lie or get it wrong? You might want to question the loudmouth, Jeremy, who says he lives here, and his last name is the same as your wanted person and the kid.” The officer walked back to the van, slung his vest inside, and sat in the doorway.
Travis held up a finger toward her and dialed his cell. “What the fuck, dude? Where’s the kid? You said she’d be here.” Travis listened and finally replied. “Thanks for nothing. You won’t get paid today or maybe ever again.” He slid his phone into the side of his vest. “He said Josh left with the girl about an hour ago in a van carrying dope north.”
“Perfect. What better way to disguise a drug run than by having a child along.”
“Exactly,” Travis said. “He gave a description of the van. I’ll put out an alert as soon as I check with the on-scene commander.”
“Let’s talk to this Jeremy Spencer,” Jazz said.
Spencer was one of three kneeling on the floor of the residence with his hands cuffed behind his back. “You Jeremy?” Travis asked the skinniest man.
“I got nothing to say.”
Jazz stepped into his body space and towered over him. “You got anything to say about being charged with accessory to kidnapping?”
“Bullshit, that kid is my flesh and blood, and she’s with her old man. You got nothing.”
“We’ll see about that,” Travis said. “You could help yourself out of these drug charges.”
“Nothing to say.”
Jazz nodded but wasn’t really paying attention anymore. “Let’s go, Travis.” Her purpose for being here was over. She checked her phone and had several missed calls and texts from Ben and Emory. She texted Ben first. Will be late to work. In Atlanta.
A few seconds later, her phone rang. “Yes, Ben?”
“What the hell are you doing in Atlanta?”
Two uniformed Atlanta officers relieved Jazz and Travis on the door, and she walked away for some privacy. “Right now, I’m on a drug raid.”
“What?” Jazz heard Kerstin ask in the background if everything was all right. “Why didn’t I know about this?”
“It was last minute, and it’s not work related…not GPD work.” Which was a stretch.
“You’re on a drug raid. In another state. You’re a police officer. And my guess is you’re looking for Shea Spencer. I’m thinking it’s work related. Are you okay?” Bennett sounded more concerned than upset.
“I’m fine, Ben. Can I explain later? And before you ask, I paid for my own ticket and I’m off the clock.”
“I don’t care about any of that. I’d just appreciate a heads up when my sister is putting herself in harm’s way out of state. Is that too much to ask? Did you tell anyone?”
Bennett was right. She should’ve at least told someone in case things went wrong. “No. Sorry. When Travis called, I left in a hurry.”
“When will you be home?”
“As soon as I get a car to the airport and book a return flight.”
“Okay, and, Jazz, we need to talk when you get back.”
Jazz hung up, wondering if Bennett had figured out why she and Emory were arguing at the ballpark too. If so, she would have more than one reason to reprimand her.
She checked the rest of her messages. Emory’s text read, We need another meet, away from work. Let me know when you’re free.
Chapter Thirteen
The next afternoon, Jazz made herself and Ben a cup of coffee and started toward the office. Emory’s text last night had sounded urgent, but Ben expected her first thing. The choice made her even more anxious than the consequences of her recent actions. She passed one of the records staff on the way and said, “When Louis comes in, please ask him to see me in the captain’s office.” Bennett’s voice echoed down the halls as she greeted folks on her way in, and Jazz settled in front of Ben’s desk, placing her coffee in the center.
“Good afternoon, Lieutenant.” Bennett’s formal address indicated the tone of the meeting.
“Captain.”
“Thanks for the coffee.”
“Sure. Look, Ben, I can explain about Atlanta.”
“I certainly hope so.” She leaned back in her chair and waited while Jazz filled her in on Shea’s last-minute placement on Friday and the events of Saturday.
“So, you see why I had to go when Travis called.” She twisted her hair and finally met Bennett’s stare.
“Louis is part of the Fairview Station family, and you were trying to help, on your own time and at your own expense. That’s not the problem. My objection is that you didn’t let anyone know where you were or what you were doing. That’s also about family, Jazz. You can’t imagine the grilling G-ma and Mama gave me. We were worried.” Bennett looked at her, and Jazz felt her concern and hurt.
“I can imagine. And you’re right. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t do it again. And as I’m sure you know, what you were doing was totally police business, so don’t try to blow smoke up my ass.” Bennett took a sip of coffee. “Did you find Shea?”
“Can I fill you in when Louis gets here so I only have to say it once?”
Bennett nodded. “Next item of business. What the holy hell was happening between you, Emory, and that Patrick woman at the ballpark Saturday? I didn’t want to grill you in front of the family at brunch.”
“Thanks for that, but it was just a misunderstanding.” Jazz hung her head. She didn’t want to admit violating CPS and department policy, nor did she want to put Bennett in the middle of her woman drama.
“It must’ve been serious to get Emory that worked up. You said that you bent one of her rules. Please tell me you didn’t break another one. She’s rabid about guidelines…” Bennett paused and gave Jazz a quizzical stare. “Or was it personal?”
Jazz blew out a long breath. No sense putting off the inevitable. “Both.” Bennett’s fingers turned white as she clutched her coffee mug. “I’m sorry, Ben.” She admitted seeing Shea without supervision or permission, buying her a cell phone, and apologizing to Mrs. Broadmoor and the Robinsons. “Guess you’ll have to write me up again.”
“Damn it, Jazz. CPS regulations exist for the protection of children. When you’re trying to help, that’s not always easy to see. We’ve had this conversation before. You put me in a difficult position. As your sister, I understand why you do what you do and I love you for it, but as your commanding officer, I can’t condone the violations.”
“I know, Ben. Do what you have to.”
Bennett rolled her cup between her hands. “If Mrs. Broadmoor, the Robinsons, or USAA don’t press the issue, I’ll let you go with a written warning, but it will go in your file this time.”
Jazz nodded.
“I need a verbal acknowledgment, Lieutenant.”
“Understood, Captain.”
Bennett took several sips of coffee and shifted forward in her seat. “So, now about the personal side of the issue. You and Emory, you and Karen, or both?”
“You sound like Travis. He reckons I should sleep with one and marry the other.”
“So?”
“I don’t want to sleep with Karen, but she is persistent, and that’s causing problems with Emory. I was with Karen when Louis called, and she was very disappointed when I left.”
“Were you? Disappointed?” Ben asked.
“More relieved. I feel different with Emory, more…something. When I’m with her, I’m excited, comfortable, and totally confused at the same time. I want to have sex with her but I want it to be at the right time, in the right place, and for the right reasons.” She lifted her hands in the air and let them drop in her lap. “What is that about?”
Ben grinned but didn’t respond.
“Well?”
“I can’t answer that for you, but I have faith in you.”
Jazz shook her head. “That’s as lame as the advice I gave you about Kerstin. Totally useless.”
A light knock sounded, and Louis stood in the doorway. “Bad time, Captain?”
“Not at all. Come in, Louis.” Bennett motioned toward the chair next to Jazz.
Louis sat and clasped his hands in his lap. “You have news about Shea?”
“I flew to Atlanta last night on information she might be in a house there with her father.” Jazz left out the drug part, not wanting to worry Louis more. “Unfortunately, they’d already left, apparently driving back this way.”
“You didn’t see her.” His anguish made Louis’s voice gruff. “You don’t know if she’s okay. I really like that little girl. She’s special.”
“I talked to Josh’s brother, Jeremy, but he wasn’t very helpful. The guy who gave us the information originally said she looked healthy.” Jazz tried to sound upbeat. “We’ve got an alert out nationwide. I’ll let you know as soon as I hear anything.”
“Thank you, Lieutenant. And thank you for going to Atlanta. I want Shea to have a chance, a real chance at a good life.”
“So do we, Louis.” When he stood to leave, Jazz added, “I need to talk with you about something else, but I’ll find you on my way out.” Jazz slumped in her chair and looked at Bennett. “There has to be more we can do.”
Bennett studied her for a few seconds and asked, “The cell phone you gave her, was it a burner?”
Jazz sat up straighter. “No. Why didn’t I think of this sooner?”
“We need a warrant to track the phone, but given the circumstances, it shouldn’t be hard to convince a judge. You might want to let me handle it though. You’re too close.” Bennett held up a hand when Jazz started to object. “Don’t say it.”
“What?”
“I know exactly what you’re thinking.” Jazz gave her a skeptical look. “Situations like these are the reason you bend the rules. I get that, sis. I really do.”
“You don’t want to hear this, but if breaking a rule gets even one child back home safely or keeps one from going through what I did, I’ll break that rule every time.”
Bennett’s eyes shone with tears. “Leave this with me.”
Jazz located Louis in the snack area and motioned him out the seldom-used front door so they wouldn’t be overheard. “I need to ask you something and I need an honest answer.”
“Always, Lieutenant.” He straightened as if standing inspection in his former military squad and gazed down at her.
“Did Karen Patrick give you money to foster Shea?” The slightest twitch of Louis’s right eyebrow was the only indication the question surprised him, but he remained completely still.
He focused straight ahead for several seconds, then parted his lips, and blew out a long breath. “I should’ve known because it didn’t feel right, but she told me it was a standard payment for what she called hard-to-place children. Starter money, she said, for new foster parents who might need help. I didn’t question her, but I put the money straight into a savings account for Shea’s college education. So, it’s not legit? Am I in trouble?”
