Cold As Ice: Novel (A Kristen Conner Mystery Book 3) (13 page)

18

I FINALLY CALL my partner, Don Squires. He gave up trying to reach me. I didn’t see him on my way in and out of Zaworski’s office on my way to Andrews’ office.

“I can’t believe you decided to call back. So you are still alive?” he answers.

“I am indeed. Sorry to be the bearer of bad news.”

“How’d your meeting with Captain Z go?”

“Hard to say. Have you heard anything?”

He pauses. Not a good answer.

“Spill it, Don.”

“Let’s just say Zaworski has not had anything good to say to anybody or about anybody since he returned. You saw what he looks like. He’s lost about thirty pounds and he was already thin. He looks like an extra on
The Walking Dead
.”

“I can tell when you’re evading, Don. Have you heard anything specific on my situation?”

“Right before I left the office he said I’m still flying solo until you are cleared to return to duty.”

“I met with the psychologist this afternoon. I was hoping I would be good to go today.”

“You aren’t being very realistic on this counseling,” he says. “You know, the more you fight it, the more your doctor is going to assume you need it.”

“You’re probably right,” I say, thinking he does have a really good point. “So Zaworski was still there when you left?”

“As of ten minutes ago.”

“I might call him. Maybe he’s heard from HR and I’m cleared. The therapist said she’d work on it.”

Don laughs and says, “You aren’t listening and you just won’t give up. He actually just got off the phone with HR when he called Martinez, Green, and me in to let us know we’re still down a man—or in your case, a crazy woman.”

“Ha ha.”

“Do you want me to tell you I told you so on the counseling now or later?”

“Have at it,” I say. “I deserve it. But I don’t think that’s why you tried to call me fifty times. What’s up with you?”

I hear him clear his throat and suddenly realize what I’ve done out of habit. How stupid could I be?

“Uh, Don,” I interrupt before he can start his first word.

“Yeah?”

“I might have a problem.”

“We’ve already established that.”

“Funny guy. I mean a CPD problem. I’m on my way to meet Blackshear to arrest Nancy Keltto.”

“KC . . . what the . . . are you out of your mind?”

“Possibly.”

We’re silent for a moment.

“Don, you still there?”

“Yes. Just tell me you’re not going over and then I am going to hang up. We can talk tomorrow. Devon has a hoops practice tonight and I told Vanessa I’d get him there. I’m coaching his team.”

I’m scrambling to think of how I can ask him.

“You’re not saying anything, KC.”

Just eat the frog and do it. “Don, I need you to help me out.”

19

WE’RE ALL JUST one happy family. Mom is in the kitchen with my sister, Kaylen. She’s been crying the last hour. Squires cancelled his family plans and partnered with Blackshear on the arrest. She was taken in a squad car, complete with whirling blue lights and a couple siren squawks on the way out of the neighborhood, to the booking room at the Fourth. The case might be coming to the Second because apparently they are experiencing the Plague this winter.

Blackshear followed in his car. Squires is eating a piece of blackberry cobbler and just listening to Mom and Kaylen talk without comment. I’ve been in and out of my seat at the table. He’s better at providing that reassuring presence than me.

I helped Kendra with her homework for fifteen minutes and she is watching a talent show on TV. She’s decided she wants to be an international soccer star and a pop singer and a detective like me. I’m not going to be the one to tell her that dreams have to be at least a little realistic. She’ll be ten in a couple months.

I’ve ended up sprawled on the living room floor playing toy soldiers with James, wondering when they are going to stop shooting each other and call a truce for the night. He’s tired but don’t tell a six-year-old that—in his case, he’ll get a second wind. He is slurring his machine gun rat-a-tats. I want to tell him to say it, not spray it, but that, too, will have an opposite effect.

I look over a Kendra who is lip-syncing with the performers while cradling Kelsey on her lap. Great baby. She is sleeping peacefully despite the battle her brother is staging.

I’m happy with the setup. Keeps me from thinking about what to do with Klarissa. I’ve got enough secrets in life. Would one more hurt? Can I just pretend I never saw her and Reynolds in the lobby bar of the
Sheraton on Seventh Avenue? Austin says we need to talk. Fine. I agree. And I think I might be ready because I might have figured out how to handle this. He can break things off with me. I’ll act surprised and appropriately hurt—for a day or two. Then he and Klarissa can make a show of just happening to discover their mutual attraction after a couple months. Two months should suffice. It might be a little awkward if they become a couple and she brings him to Chicago, but certainly not the disaster we have brewing. If Reynolds needs some prompts I’ll provide them. No one would be the wiser except for me. It wouldn’t be the first time I kept a secret to protect my family.

I start to stand and James immediately begins to protest that he’s not tired and wants to play more.

“Shhh. You’ll wake the baby. I’ll be right back, General. I need to check on the grownups.”

“Tell mommy I’m not tired,” he says earnestly. His eyes have dark circles smudged around them.

I’m tired myself. I meet with Captain Z at eight sharp in the morning, with an emphasis on sharp. The kids have school. Mom has work. Time to wrap things up.

My phone goes off again and Kelsey is immediately awake and in full lung. I’m about to block what I assume is another call from Reynolds—I’m ready to talk but not right now—when I see a New York number pop up. It’s almost eleven, so that makes it midnight there.

“This is Detective Conner.”

“Kristen. It’s Tommy.”

I pause. Oh, Barnes.

“Yes, Lieutenant? You’re working late tonight. Or is it early?”

“Both. Have you watched the news?”

“I’ve been running all day and have a family situation I’m dealing with. Can this wait until tomorrow?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Really?”

“Not if I want to keep my job and you want to stay alive.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“We’ve got World War III going on over here—and apparently you are part of it. I’m serious. This is big, Kristen.”

“Hold on a sec, Barnes. I’m going to get my partner and put you on speaker, if that’s okay.”

“You’re out awfully late with your partner aren’t you, Conner?”

“Save it, Barnes. Give me a sec.”

“Take your time, Conner. All I’m trying to do is save your life and you get prickly about a little kidding.”

I hit mute. Prickly? Me? I guess I better start calling him Tommy if I don’t want him to pout.

“Kaylen, we’ve got it all under control here. You need to get those kids home.”

“You said you’d play more!” James shouts.

Kelsey lets out a scream. I give James the I’m-not-messing-around eyeball and he shuts it down. Kaylen looks tired. She nods and stands up to bundle everyone up.

“Yeah, I need to get going, too,” Don says.

“Don, I need you to stay just a second,” I say.

He looks at me in disbelief, taps his watch face, and shakes his head, but sits back down.

“What’s the matter, honey?” Mom asks me. She looks drained.

“Detective Squires and I need to handle a call. I’ll tell you what’s up if you’re still awake. But you need to start getting ready for bed.”

Who is the parent here?

I kiss Kendra and Kelsey and hug my sister. James is mad and tries to escape, but I snag him long enough to give him a bear hug and loud smooch kiss.

“Gross!”

Now that’s what I call a prickly attitude. Maybe he’ll work for the NYPD some day.

“Don, let’s head into the dining room. I need you to listen in.”

“Can I pour another cup of coffee?” Mom asks.

Don shakes his head no.

“Half of one for me,” I say. “Then you need to head to bed.”

Was that enough of a hint?

Don and I ended the call with Barnes an hour later. My battery is about dead. I’ve missed more calls. Klarissa. Reynolds. They can talk to each other while they wait to connect with me. They’re the least of my worries now.

Barnes wasn’t lying. New York City is in the middle of a war. A whole lot of Russians with names I can’t follow have been shooting each other all day. The mayor hasn’t been on good terms with NYPD and is about to drop another notch or two in their esteem. He’s ordered mandatory double shifts and is threatening to initiate a curfew to commence tomorrow night at six if the bullets are still flying.

We had to clue Don in to what happened with me in Central Park less than twenty-four hours earlier since he just got bits and pieces out of Zaworski. Don loves to gig me. But to his credit, he just listened and asked a few pertinent questions. No trash talk toward his partner.

When I asked Barnes to clarify how I figured in all of this, he said they made an arrest of one known foot-soldier in the New York
bratva
—I guess that’s their version of mafia. When they searched his car they found an AK-47, a sniper rifle, and my picture—along with my work and home addresses, my cell number, and a list of frequent haunts, including church and two health clubs. That is scary even if they have my old apartment address, not Klarissa’s condo.

It is suspected, with good reason, there is a death warrant out on me.

I think I do need to call Reynolds. I need to find out everything he knows and he is higher up the law enforcement food chain than Barnes.

Don watches as I hit speed dial. Reynolds doesn’t answer. Then I think of Klarissa. I wonder if it is known she is my sister. I call Barnes back and ask him to put a security detail on her.

“Good call, Conner. We should have done that already.”

“Thanks, Tommy. I appreciate it.”

Nothing is going to keep me from being mad at her and Reynolds. But I love my sister. I already had one case put her in harm’s way. Dear God, please don’t let that happen again.

“You better call the Big Z,” Don says.

“You said it yourself. He looks awful. I’ll let him sleep. This can wait for morning.”

“This is serious business, KC. Call him now.”

“But they got the guy with my picture so it might be over. You heard Barnes say that yourself.”

“What I heard him say very clearly is that this might not be over.”

“Don, you need to go home and show your face and tell Vanessa how sorry I am I screwed up family plans.”

Don ignores me and points at my phone. On cue the battery dies and gives a death beep. Don sighs and calls Zaworski himself.

I walk down the tiny hall and peek in my mom’s room. She is fast asleep. Good. Hopefully she’ll forget that I told her I’d let her know what was going on in New York. She doesn’t need to hear this.

Don and I drive separate cars to the Second. Zaworski took Don’s call and is convening a late night meeting.

20

THE BEAR WAITED as long as he could. He lay on a sheet of plywood someone had put on top of some roofing joists for a full eighteen hours. The gunfire had stopped about fifteen minutes after it started. Then came the sirens. Then came the muffled sounds of police searching around the house for evidence and banging in and out of Genken’s estate house for hours. Then there were two sets of footsteps on the floor below him and the sound of furniture being moved around. He was sure someone would say something, point to his hiding place, and one of them would scrabble up the folding ladder.

He hadn’t decided whether to surrender or kill anyone who poked a head through the opening—it would be like the whack-a-mole arcade game he liked—when a radio squawked. Both sets of footsteps left the room and went downstairs.

He was still alive and free at the moment. What more could you ask for?

After it was quiet for a couple hours, he finally pushed down on the latch with a quick jab and the ceiling door popped up. He pulled it open with a loud squeak of unoiled springs. He held his breath for what felt like a full minute. No response. He lowered the ladder and climbed down stiffly. It was much easier to squeeze through the opening on the trip down. He took care of an urgent matter first and visited the toilet, cleaning himself up after lying in urine and excrement. He walked over to his prison door. Whoever had been there to check for signs of life was considerate and left it unlocked.

He went back to the window, pulled the corner of a curtain, and scanned the driveway. There were three black and whites parked there
but no one was outside, at least not in his range of vision. He exited the garage through a rear door and wended through the trees to the back of the grounds where a wall awaited him. Was the security system still activated? With all the coming and going, quite possibly not. Heck, it might have been blown up in the battle. It didn’t matter. He had to at least try to get out of the area.

The stone wall blocking his escape was ten feet tall. Not good. At six-seven he was tall enough to reach the top with just a little jump. But with his weight, no way could he pull himself up and over. He looked around. In a small clearing there was a decorative concrete—heck it might be marble—birdbath, resting on a pedestal. He pushed the basin off the pedestal, trying to keep it from falling. The sound of it hitting tile seemed to echo for miles. He looked around. No movement. He heard no sound of footsteps running his direction. Sorry, birds, you’ll have to land somewhere else for a drink.

He gripped the pedestal in two hands. It must weigh three or four hundred pounds. But he was Medved. He couldn’t do a pull up with his body weight but he was the Bear, and everyone knows a bear is quite strong. He bent his knees, keeping his back as straight as possible, and hoisted it to his body. He duck-walked it over to the wall. Was there wire and cut glass on top of it? Didn’t matter. He couldn’t walk out the front gate.

Two minutes later he fell to the ground on the other side, turning his ankle. He hopped around in pain but bit back the urge to yell.

He was free. What next?

Yes, I did a bad thing. But I’m a good guy.

Everybody thought Kellto was a saint. But will the world miss him? His wife won’t.

He was so holier-than-thou. Religious do-gooders love to put on a show
of humility, but I think deep down inside, they want to let the world know how much better they are than the rest of us. In the end, they are just as selfish and controlling as anybody. No way was I going to let him control my life.