Detective Partners

Detective
Partners

Kate Hopkins

Detective Partners

By Kate Hopkins

Copyright
2011
by
Kate Hopkins

Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book are

products
of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or

persons
, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the

intent
of the author.

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in

any
form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including

photocopying
, recording, or by any information storage and

retrieval
system, without permission in writing from the author.

Prologue

"Attention all units in the vicinity of Blanchard and Jacoby St. Code 211 in progress at 680 Blanchard, Henry's Quick Stop.
Possible 10-54. Suspect armed with a handgun. Repeat. Attention all units-"

A robbery in progress and a possible dead body.
Swearing under his breath, Homicide Detective Galen Maxwell grabbed the mike of his radio and responded to the call, giving the dispatcher his location. A few seconds later, he snatched up the portable flashing red light he kept in his car and slapped it on the roof, stepping on the gas at the same time. He was off duty and on his way home, but he was only three blocks from the convenience store and would probably get there before a black and white. His heart pounding in his ears, he raced down Blanchard with siren shrieking. He glanced in his rearview mirror and saw the spinning blue and red lights of backup more than a mile down the road.

He shot into the brightly lit parking lot and hit the brakes, his steel gray eyes scanning the scene before him. A man lay face down on the pavement, unmoving. Blood pooled around him. Standing near the body, his arm around a woman and a gun to her head, was the perpetrator. Galen brought the car to a screeching stop and jumped out. Gun gripped firmly in both hands he moved cautiously toward the man. "Drop your weapon and step away from the woman with your hands up," he growled as his backup came into view.

"Come any closer and she's dead," the gunman snapped.

Galen stopped in his tracks. "Put the gun on the ground and kick it toward me."

"Not happening."

"You're surrounded," Galen told him, referring to the officers behind him. "You know how this is going to end. So why don't you make it easier on yourself and give up? Put the gun down and let her go." He looked at the frightened woman, being held hostage. "What is your name?"

"A-Alice," she stuttered.

"Do you have any children, Alice?" he asked.

"Two," she croaked.

Galen returned his attention to the perp. "Alice has children. Don't take their mother from them. Whatever's bothering you we can talk about
it.
I can help you."

The man snorted. "What do you think
I
a stupid? I know what you're doing. It won't work."

Taking a deep breath, Galen let it out slowly. His eyes strayed toward the body on the ground. "Let me check on him," he said, jerking his head in the direction of the body. "I won't try anything. I just want to check to-"

"Don't bother," the gunman sneered. "He's dead, and the bitch here will be too if you don't cooperate with me."

"Please," Alice whispered. "I can't-"

"Shut up!" he snarled.

"Calm down," Galen said. "You don't have to hurt her. Just tell me what you want."

"I want you to call off the goons."

A sudden movement behind the gunman caught Galen's attention and he noticed it was an officer. He had his gun drawn and was quickly approaching. Not wanting to draw attention to him, Galen averted his gaze. "What then? After I tell them to back off, what else do you want?"

"To get the hell out of here."
He grinned. "I might even take Alice with me." She whimpered. "Now this is what you're going to do."

"Why don't I tell you what you're going to do instead?" the officer said, jabbing the gun in his back. Startled, the gunman jumped. "Drop your weapon and kick it over to the nice detective." The gun fell to the ground and was kicked toward Galen, who bent down and picked it up.
"Very good.
Now I want you to release the lady and put your hands behind your head. Don't try anything. I have no problem with shooting you."

Once Alice was free she moved toward Galen on shaky legs. He holstered his weapon and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. She let out a sob as she sagged against him. "It's all right now." He patted her back gently. "Everything's going to be fine. Just take several deep breaths." He glanced in the direction of the officer and saw him handcuffing the gunman. "When you're ready, Alice, you need to give the police your statement. Afterward you can go home to your children. Are you hurt anywhere? Do you need a doctor?"

"N-no," she uttered in a hoarse voice. "Thank you."

"For what?"

She moved back a few steps and wiped her face on the sleeve of her coat.
"For helping me."

Galen smiled at her. "I didn't do much, but you're welcome. Can you talk to the police now?"

"I think so."

"Then I'll leave you to it." He left her and strolled over to the dead body. Bending down, he carefully rolled it over and found himself staring down into the face of his partner.

An hour later, Galen stood beside a stainless steel table in the morgue. On the table, covered from the neck down with a white sheet, was his partner. The shock Galen had felt when he
turned the body over and discovered it was his partner had vanished, a mixture of anger and pain replaced it. His throat tight from holding back his emotions, he swallowed hard and then took a long deep breath. Hearing the sound of footsteps, he turned and saw his boss. In his fifties, Parker Strauss had light brown hair and green eyes, eyes that were currently filled with sadness.

"Maxwell," he said quietly, calling Galen by his last name. "Am I intruding?"

"No, sir."

Parker moved around to the other side of the table and looked down. "I paid his family a visit." He sighed. "Telling someone that their loved one is gone-" He shifted from one foot to the other. "It never gets any easier. Kyle was a damn fine man and detective."

"Yes, he was," Galen agreed. "It was a privilege working with - with-" Choking up, he lowered his head and closed his eyes. "I'm - I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize," Parker told him. "There's no need for it. Take your time. When you're ready we'll talk."

Galen took a moment to get his emotions under control. When he felt he could talk without losing it he wiped his face with his hand and raised his head. "I'm all right now."

Parker eyed him critically. "I think it's best if you take some time off."

"That's not necessary, sir."

"I think it is." He scratched his jaw. "You just lost your partner. You're not in the right frame of mind to be working right now. I want you to take a leave of absence."

The thought of nothing but time on his hands, time to sit and think about Kyle's death, twisted his stomach in knots. He needed to keep himself busy. "Sir, I don't need to take time off." He ran a hand through his black hair and grimaced. "I need to keep working."

Parker gazed at him with sympathy. "I understand. Believe me, I do, but you don't need to bury your grief under a mountain of work. Three weeks of paid vacation, effective immediately."

"Sir, I-"

"It's an order, Maxwell," he growled softly.

Galen gritted his teeth.
"Yes, sir."

Nicole pulled up in front of the large brick building, put the car in park, and shut off the engine. She removed her gun from its holster and stuck it under the passenger seat. She had always been uncomfortable with taking her gun into a church. There was just something about it that felt wrong, so she always left it in the car. Grabbing her coat, she slipped it on and got out of the car.
A gust of cold air hit her and she shivered. She stuffed her hands in her pockets and hurried toward the entrance.

Once inside Nicole crossed the small entry hall and stepped through a set of double doors that were open. She made her way down the center aisle, the sound of her footsteps were muffled by thick burgundy colored carpet. About midway she stopped and took a seat in one of the wooden padded pews. Her blue eyes took in her surroundings, surroundings that she knew well. The large stain glass windows, depicting scenes of angels and children, caught her attention. She gazed at them for a moment and then turned her attention to the stain glass window above the pulpit. It was one of Jesus. He had his arms open wide and looked as though he was descended from heaven. Of all the stain glasses it was her favorite.

"May I join you?"

Nicole turned her head and looked up at the man standing there. Warm hazel eyes met hers and she smiled. "Hello, Pastor." She slid over and he sat down. Shifting on the bench, she gazed at him. At fifty-one, John Kelly's dark brown hair was streaked with white. Lines that were caused by fatigue and worry over his congregation made him appear older than he was. "How are you?"