Burnout (NYPD Blue & Gold) (20 page)

Chapter Nineteen

The vet’s waiting room was like an icebox, thanks to the overactive, whirring air conditioner mounted into the wall. Cassie shivered, but it was more from fear that her sweet, beautiful dog was moments from death.

Every time she thought of Raven lying alone on the cold metal examining table where Mike had laid her not thirty minutes ago, her stomach churned with nausea. She rocked back and forth on the wooden bench, trying to calm herself. Only Mike’s quick thinking at grabbing the poisoned dart and rushing Raven to the vet’s office gave the dog a fighting chance.

Mike leaned his hip against the empty receptionist’s desk, professionally and efficiently dictating details of the shooting to whomever he was speaking with via the landline. First, he’d called his dispatcher, ordering her to get word to Jimmy and have units secure Cassie’s house until forensics arrived. Then he’d notified the coroner and the State Police.

As she watched Mike, his demeanor all business, Cassie’s heart felt as if it had been sliced into a million pieces then run through a food processor. In just a few hours, immediately following the debriefing, she’d hit the road and Mike would be nothing more than a memory, a dream that would never come true.

He finally ended his call and hung up.

“Why are you here with me?” Her voice sounded as if someone had taken a cheese grater to her throat. “A shooting in any town, let alone a quiet place like Hopewell Springs, has to be a huge deal. Shouldn’t you be at my house coordinating things from there, instead of babysitting me and my dog?”

He frowned. “Probably.”

“I’m sure you’re not staying with me out of kindness in case Raven…dies.”

She blinked back tears at the horrible thought, then it hit her—the real reason he was with her instead of at the house handling the shooting—and it had nothing to do with kindness.

“I get it.” She gave him a bitter look. “You’re afraid I’ll run and you’ll never get the chance to grill my ass. You’re only here to keep a tight rein on me.”

Mike didn’t deny a word of what she’d said. He looked away, as if he couldn’t stand the sight of her.

The large metal-rimmed clock on the wall ticked off the minutes slower and slower each time she checked it. It was after one in the morning. Another day. Cassie dared herself to think today couldn’t possibly be worse than yesterday but knew better.

She couldn’t recall much immediately after Mike rescued her and had only a vague recollection of him holding her, wearing an icy look of rage as he touched his fingers to her throat. He’d spoken to her, but she couldn’t remember a word he’d said. He’d probably been yelling at her for not going to the police station as ordered.

The swollen red ring around her throat began to throb worse than before. Cassie put her hand to her neck, and as her fingers made contact with the sensitive flesh, she winced and began to cough. The back of her throat was scratchy and raw, the way she imagined it would be if someone had jammed a burning torch down there. Or spiked her chili with hot sauce.

When she finished hacking, she felt Mike’s eyes on her.

“Are you okay?” His concerned gaze flickered briefly to her neck.

She nodded.

“I still want to take you to the hospital. You should have your neck X-rayed.”

“No.” The word came out sounding harsh and not remotely like her own voice. “I’m staying here.”

“I meant later. Raven’s a strong, healthy dog—and she’s a fighter. Doc Tesch is the best vet in the county. If anyone can get her through this, he can.” He held her gaze a moment longer, and Cassie could swear he wanted to say something else. The reception desk phone rang and Mike answered it.

Unable to sit still, she paced the gray tiled floor. She made three complete circuits of the waiting room, past the reception desk, past the closed green door behind which Raven was fighting for her life.

Mike shoved his free hand into his pocket. A bloodstain stood out like a red beacon on the polo shirt where his wound had once again bled through the white fabric. Cassie wondered if he was in a lot of pain. In the hospital, she’d seen him wince when he’d thought nobody was looking.

“Hold on,” Mike said and leaned over the desk to grab a pen and a pad of paper. “Go ahead.” He began scribbling on the pad.

Cassie knew he’d been waiting to get a name on the hit man. The opportunity to grill the sonofabitch over the contract between the hired assassin and Manici was down the toilet, but maybe his ID could give Dom and Gray something to go on. She’d tried calling them both from another phone in the vet’s office, but their cell phones kicked right over to voicemail. Eventually they’d get the messages and no doubt haul ass up the thruway to secret her away to a safe house, somewhere far, far away from Hopewell Springs.

“Got it.” Mike tore the top sheet of paper off the pad. “Thanks, Jimmy.” He hung up then turned to her. “We’ve got an ID on the hit man.”

Cassie stopped pacing.

“His DL says he’s Ahmed Methopolis from Manhattan. No wants, no warrants. Not even a speeding ticket. A squeaky clean record is consistent with high-priced assassins. They usually want to stay off police radar.” Mike’s forehead creased as he stared at the sheet of paper. “I remember reading an INTERPOL alert years ago about a suspect named Methopolis associated with a group of hired killers. Called themselves the Pyramid, although no law enforcement agency has ever actually proven they exist. Still, there could be a connection.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Cassie grimaced as her throat burned. “Manici will send someone else after me.”

“Who’s Manici?” Mike had come to stand in front of her.

For a moment, Cassie’s mind went blank. She gazed into the eyes of the man she loved more than anything else in the world, wanting nothing more than to throw her arms around him and have him hold her tightly. Sadly, the hard glint in his eyes was all cop.

After a deep inhale, Cassie began her story.

“Manici is the guy who paid for the hit.” No sooner had she said the words than niggling doubt insinuated itself into her mind. “He owns a nightclub, a drug-dealing, white-slavery, go-go bar. I was the bartender and nailed his ass solid on recordings. The hit is to keep me from testifying, so I decided to get lost for a while. I headed north and didn’t stop until I pulled off the highway to eat and landed in Hopewell Springs. That was the day you and I met.”

Never in a million years would Cassie have imagined that fateful meeting would wind up the way it had tonight. Then, Mike’s gaze had been one of a man interested in a woman. Now he was focused solely on police business.

“I don’t get it. Manici puts a hit on you, but the body wire recordings can be introduced in court as evidence whether you’re alive or dead. What makes you so dangerous someone wants you dead?”

“That’s the billion dollar question.” Exhausted beyond belief, Cassie dragged herself to the wooden bench and all but fell onto it. “I suppose Manici could be ignorant of criminal law.”

Mike raised his brows. “He has a lawyer, right?”

“Of course.”

“Then he probably knows, but to play it safe we should assume he doesn’t.” Mike’s boots clumped on the tile floor as he walked to the bench. When she looked up, he towered over her, frowning again.

“Methopolis’ body is being moved to the morgue. We’ll send his photo and prints to the FBI and INTERPOL. We might get a hit, but it could take a day or two.”

Mike paused, and Cassie could practically hear the gears spinning in his head, no doubt planning his next move. “When word gets out about the shooting, Manici will know his contract with Methopolis is null and void. We can try to keep it quiet for a while, buy us some time. But sooner or later Manici will find out and get someone else to fulfill the contract. As long as Manici’s still out there, so is the threat to your life.”

Buy
us
some time?

Strange how Mike’s words implied he planned to help her. It had to be out of duty to the town and the people he’d sworn to protect. Much as she wished differently, she was no longer a part of this community and no longer a part of Mike’s life. His personal life, that was.

Heartbreak aside, something still bugged her about the hit. She began tapping her fingers on the wood bench, struggling to get to the source of her niggling doubt.

“What’s on your mind?” Mike asked. “I know you too well, so don’t hold out on me now.”

“Nothing about Manici ever struck me as being vindictively homicidal. True, he’s an asshole and a sleazebag, and he couldn’t care less who he hurts making a buck. But I never figured him for the type to kill anyone outright, let alone hire a professional assassin.”

Mike crossed his arms over his chest. “Desperation drives people to do screwed-up things.”

The tug at the back of her brain refused to let go. “It’s only a hunch, and I don’t have anything to back it up with.”

“Don’t ignore your instinct.” Mike propped his boot on the bench. “Go with it.”

“I don’t know what to go with. It has to be Manici. Who else has a motive to kill me?”

Mike leaned his forearm on his knee. “You tell me.”

Hinges squeaked as Dr. Tesch came through the green door.

Cassie launched from the bench. Mike’s boots sounded on the tile floor as he came to stand beside her. The wiry doctor’s lean face revealed nothing, and she was sure Raven was dead. A knot the size of a grapefruit lodged in her throat.

Dr. Tesch wiped his brow with a paper towel, then gave her a hesitant smile. “I think she’ll make it.”

“Thank God.” Without thinking, Cassie turned and threw her arms around Mike’s neck and pressed her face to his chest. His arms wrapped around her like a warm, steel blanket.

A moment later, Mike stiffened and released her, a stark reminder that he wasn’t there to provide comfort but to make sure she didn’t flee. God, how she wished she could turn back time and do everything differently.

Cassie choked down her tears as she turned away from Mike. Tears of joy over Raven. Tears of pain at knowing things hadn’t changed between her and Mike.

“Thank you.” She clasped the doctor’s hands in hers.

“She’s not completely out of danger, but things look good, and she’s responding to treatment,” Dr. Tesch said. “I won’t know for sure what poison it was until I get that dart analyzed and Raven’s blood test comes back. From her symptoms, I’d guess it was some kind of paralytic toxin. It paralyzes the victim first, then kills.”

“Sonofabitch,” Mike muttered.

“My thoughts exactly.” The vet nodded. “Whoever did this is one sick bastard. Must have wanted Raven to suffer. She was in respiratory paralysis when you brought her in. Another minute and she wouldn’t have made it. I put a tube down her throat to help her breathe. There’s a lump on her shoulder where the dart went in, so it’s possible the dart glanced off her shoulder blade and she only got a fraction of the intended dose. She’s one lucky dog.”

“Thanks, Doc.” Mike shook the vet’s hand.

Dr. Tesch tipped his head toward the green door and said to Cassie, “Would you like to see her for a minute?”

Cassie nodded.

Mike put his hand on her shoulder, and she felt his touch clear down to her toes. “I’ll wait for you out here.”

“Raven will have to stay a few days. Maybe longer.” The vet pushed the green door open wider. “Before I release her, I’d like to see her blood workup and confirm I’m giving her the right antidote and dosage.”

“I understand.” Cassie followed him through the door.

Raven was in good hands, but leaving town without her would be like leaving a family member behind. As much as it killed her, she’d do it to keep the townspeople safe.

The vet led her through the examination room into another room with various small cages on shelves and larger cages lining the floor. The room smelled like alcohol, cleaning fluid, and that terrible scent all sick and frightened animals seemed to give off. Somewhere in the room, a kitten mewed and a dog whimpered.

Cassie spotted Raven lying on her side in a cage on the far wall. She ran to it and fell to her knees. A plastic tube attached to a whirring machine next to the cage led directly into Raven’s mouth, secured by white medical tape. Another tube ran from a clear bag hooked to the cage into Raven’s shaved foreleg. More white tape held the IV needle in place, contrasting with the bright yellow antiseptic swabbed onto her shaved skin.

Raven’s head lay against the side of the cage, her eyes closed. Through the metal bars, Cassie stroked the dog’s soft, silky hair. She swallowed the enormous lump in her throat, fighting back the tears. “I’m here, girl. I have to go, but I’ll come back for you. I promise.”

Then she and Raven would leave Hopewell Springs for good.

It was nearly two thirty in the morning when Mike parked the police cruiser in the driveway of a modest two-story house on the outskirts of town.

Mike’s house.

Cassie’s heart squeezed at the thought that she’d be spending an entire night in Mike’s home knowing he was only offering it for professional reasons. To protect her, not because he loved her.

After they’d left the vet’s office, Mike had insisted on taking her back to the hospital for X-rays. The ER doctor determined there was no permanent damage, just bruising, and her throat would be sore and hoarse for a while.

A quick glance in the hospital bathroom’s mirror had told Cassie her neck was already turning nasty shades of red and purple, while broken blood vessels gave her eyes a grisly, bloodshot hue. She’d been lucky, the doctor had said. Cassie knew luck had nothing to do with it. Mike saved her life. And thanks to his quick thinking, Raven’s, too.

When they’d stopped by her house to pick up some of her things, the place had been eerily quiet. Other than Officer Mackey, who remained outside to guard the crime scene overnight, there was no indication anything horrible and deadly had happened there. Then Cassie spotted the telltale signs.

Yellow police tape across the kitchen doorway. The sharp odor of cleaning solution. The handbag she’d thrown into the bushes now sat on the hallway table.

And no Raven.