Fall Into Me (16 page)

Chris paced a few strides from the crates and shot him a mock-pitying look. “Miss Lydia doesn’t need that list for another week. I repeat, you’re whipped.”

Hound stared longingly at the red containers, shifted his limpid gaze to Chris and made a low whine, big canine body quivering with anticipation.

“What would you know?” Troy Lee lowered to sit on the second tread from the top. “You haven’t had a date in so long, people think you’re gay.”

“Heh.” Mild amusement colored the sound as Chris flipped him off. The door behind Troy Lee clanged open and Chris jerked his chin toward the top of the steps. “Hey, Cookie, how many times have you called Tori today?”

“I haven’t.” Cookie stopped on the step next to Troy Lee. Chris fixed Troy Lee with a “see?” expression. “Texted her a couple of times this morning about the holiday party.”

Smirking at Chris, Troy Lee waved a hand between them. Chris shook his head. “Y’all are sad.”

Troy Lee rested his elbows on the step behind him. “You’re just jealous.”

“Hardly.” Chris turned his attention to the dog. “Hound, search.” The German Shepherd responded immediately, springing forward, running around the three crates, nosing them under Chris’s stream of encouragement. “Atta boy, Hound, find it. Hsst. Where’s it at, huh? Where’s it at, boy, find it. Hsst. Hsst. Come on.”

With a whine, Hound paused at the middle crate, pawing and scratching at the top before sitting and eyeing Chris with adoring expectation. Chris stopped on the other side of the red box. “Is that it?”

Hound laid a big paw atop the crate. Chris leaned down, lifted the plastic and pulled out the white bag. He held it aloft so Cookie and Troy Lee could see “cocaine” written across the front in large block print. “Good boy. Good dog.”

He pulled a tennis ball from his BDU pocket. Hound perked up but didn’t leave the sit position. Chris tossed the ball across the worn grass. “Go get it.”

Watching Chris reward the dog with play, Troy Lee shook his head. The guy’s most meaningful relationship was with a four-legged furry beast and he was ragging Troy Lee about being whipped?

“How do you feel about having me for a ride-along this afternoon?”

He startled at Cookie’s quiet question. Nerves jumped in his gut, and he came to his feet. “Am I in trouble again?”

“Nah.” Cookie laughed. “My unit’s going in for routine maintenance. Figured if I tagged along, you could fill me in on that chase-response training you took over in Tifton.”

“Yeah.” Relief filled him, the tension draining away. Man, he had to find a way to get beyond the constant fear of screwing up. He rested his hands above his gun belt and looked sideways at Cookie. “I can do that.”

“Come on then.” Cookie tilted his head toward the department building. “Let’s go 10-8 and get started.”

Unable to bear being inside the silent house, Angel fled outside to the yard and worked herself ragged. She attacked the gingko tree at the back corner of the house with the pruning shears, even though it was the wrong time of year for that. She divided daylilies, not caring that doing so in the cold would shock the roots. She weeded already immaculate beds, tunneling beneath the damp mulch with her bare hands to dig out the tiniest of sprouts. Through it all, she kept her mind a careful blank.

After replacing the shears in the shed, she grabbed a rake and tackled the gravel area around the small building, dragging precise circles in the small stones. Maybe she should open the bar herself after all, call Julie back and tell her she felt better. Maybe if she picked up and went on, pretended everything was normal, it really would be.

She gazed at her hands on the rake handle, nails jagged and broken, dirt embedded under them. Lower, soil stained her turquoise boots and streaked her bare legs. Lord, she hadn’t even changed, had just marched out here in her brown cotton dress, legs and arms exposed, wearing her beloved custom boots. A giggle burbled up from her tight throat, morphing into a rough sob. Hot tears burned her eyes and she buried her face in the curve of her arm, braced atop the rake. Breathing in hard, she forced herself back into control. No thinking, just work.

Yes, she needed to go do her own inventory, go open the bar. With a shaky inhale, she lifted her head and brushed at her face, leaving gritty trails on her skin. She replaced the rake on the tool rack and locked the shed. Leaning down, she rubbed at the dirt on her legs, achieving no more than merely spreading the rich black soil.

A shower, a night working, time spent pretending everything was normal and okay.

She could do that.

“It’s all about assessing the risk.” Troy Lee slowed to swing onto Tuton Road from Highway 112. Cookie lounged in the passenger seat, an elbow propped on the door, his gaze alert and interested. “Like an equation, you know?”

Cookie rubbed his forefinger over his mouth. “An equation.”

“Yeah.” Warming to the topic, Troy Lee relaxed, navigating the familiar road with one hand on the wheel. “You take the variables you know—the roadway, the traffic, whether it’s a felony offense—and you combine them with the ones you don’t, and you come up with a risk ratio. If the ratio is too high, you drop out of the chase, try a different tactic.”

“Makes sense. You should redeliver that. I’ll talk to Tick, have him set it up on the training schedule.”

Troy Lee swallowed a rude retort. Somehow, he doubted Calvert would trust him to redeliver anything without screwing up the entire department. He braked for the crossroads at US 19, continued across on River Road, swerving to the other lane to avoid the rumble strips before the railroad.

“Troy Lee.” Cookie cleared his throat. “He’ll come around to you, but you have to give him a chance.”

“Right.” Troy Lee took his gaze from the road long enough to glance narrow-eyed at Cookie. “Two and a half years, Cookie. I’ll own my screwups. I got caught up in the excitement of that first chase and ran the engine hot. I fucked up the Schaefer warrant. Yeah, there’s other stuff too. He can’t see beyond any of that. He doesn’t want to see beyond it.”

“He’s forgotten what the learning curve can be like.” Cookie tapped a knuckle against the window. “But I think he’s got a whole new one and that’ll open him up with you.”

“Maybe I don’t want him to open up with me.” Shit, now he sounded like Ellis when she was pouting about one of Christine’s rules. “Maybe I just want him to leave me the hell alone.”

“We both know that’s not true.” Cool calm blanketed the quiet words. “You want to be like him.”

“Maybe I did.” Troy Lee pressed the brakes harder than necessary, the car sliding a little as it came to a rest at the Highway 3 stop sign. He glanced both ways, tapping his fingers on the wheel. On 3, a Honda swung around the curve, approaching the intersection, fast. “Maybe not anymore.”

“You’ve got a damn stubborn streak a mile wide, don’t you?”

“Get it from my dad. He called it persistence.” The Honda flashed by in a blur of gray paint and Florida tags. “Holy shit, he’s flying.”

“Yeah. Turn after him.” Cookie gestured with a finger, but Troy Lee was already turning in behind the small car, closing the gap with a hard foot on the gas. Brake lights didn’t flare as Troy Lee had expected, but the driver’s head bobbed. Checking the mirrors. Instincts pricked to life all down Troy Lee’s spine.

“Call Chris.” Troy Lee stabbed a finger toward the radio and flipped on his blue lights. Still no brake lights. Sure enough, the Honda sped up rather than slowing down. Troy Lee’s speedometer crept upwards as he kept pace. He spun the chase variables through his head, the logic blending with the instinct. “There’re drugs in that car.”

“I think you’re right.” Cookie already had the mike in hand, rattling off Chris’s call number and a request for location, following that with a call to dispatch, asking for a run on the Honda’s tags. “You gotta stop him before he hits town too.”

“Somebody needs to meet us north of town, to put out the spike strip before he hits those double bridges—”

“Chandler, C-3.” Deb’s calm voice from dispatch cut him off.

“Go ahead, Chandler.”

“Tags are registered to a 1992 Honda Accord, Brad Richards out of Tampa. Has active felony wants and warrants.”

“10-4, Chandler.” Cookie’s words faded into a stream of syllables, Troy Lee’s concentration focused on navigating the twisting back highway and watching the other driver’s every move. Chris’s quiet voice came across the radio as he called in his location and his intention to cut across the PSC service road to intercept the chase.

“C-8 to C-5.” Vann Starling hailed Chris. “I’m south of you on 3, right around the curve. Stopping to deploy the spike strip.”

“Chris needs to come on this way.” Troy Lee shook his head, steering tight into the double S curve before the Stinson place. Adrenaline surged into his system, sharpening his senses, slowing time around him. “This guy’s gonna shoot right onto Haven Road.”

“No, there’s no way—”

“Cookie, he’ll take Haven and try to lose us. Tell Chris to come on.”

His tone tight, Cookie complied. Sure enough, as they cleared the curve and headed into the straightaway, the Honda jumped forward and Troy Lee pressed harder on the accelerator to stay with him. White flashed beyond Dale Jenkins’s pecan grove, a glimpse of Chris’s car before he came around the upcoming curve. Brake lights flared briefly on the Honda and it veered to the right down the red clay surface of Haven Road.

“Shit,” Cookie breathed, and triumph spurted through Troy Lee, blending with the mix of anger and adrenaline. He took the same right, hard, with Chris falling in behind.

Red dust bloomed behind the Honda, obscuring the road. Damn, he was glad he’d driven this sucker as often as he had, in endless patrol circles. He could map out the geography in his head, the way he could envision notes on sheet music when he played. After the first curve, the dirt road opened up enough to allow him passage around the Honda. If he got out in front, he and Chris could hem the son of a bitch in, force him to stop.

Driving with one hand, he snatched the mike from Cookie’s surprised hold. “Chris, we’re gonna stop him after the curve, before the Harris place.”

“Got your back.”

As soon as the way opened up, Troy Lee punched it, coming along side the Honda. Shit, they needed a third car, to make a true box, but they could do this. He pulled slightly forward, eyeing the access points as he did so. All he needed was a damn tractor or a pickup to pull out in front of them.

Like silk clockwork, Chris angled in behind him, the two of them working in tandem to force the Honda to slow and finally come to a sliding halt in the ditch.

“He’s gonna bail.” Cookie unlatched his seat belt as Troy Lee slammed the gearshift to park. Metal clanged on metal, paint scratching with a shearing sound as the Honda’s driver’s door banged into the passenger door of Troy Lee’s unit.

Troy Lee didn’t take time to cringe, lunging out of the unit and into a sprint as the suspect scrambled across the Honda’s trunk and up the ditch incline to scale the wire fence. Shit, why did they always run?

With Hound’s excited yelping and Chris’s voice calling in radio codes, he vaulted across the ditch, scrabbled for purchase on the slick clay, braced a hand on the fence post to jump the wire. The skinny kid had a slight lead on him across the pasture, but with a burst of speed, Troy Lee closed the distance. Hell if he was gonna tackle him and risk blowing his knee. Instead, he grasped a handful of T-shirt and slung the guy down, belly first. The impact wrung a grunt from the suspect.

“You want to run from me again, man?” Cuffs in hand, Troy Lee planted his knee in the middle of the young man’s spine and captured one wrist, pulling it down to close the other cuff. He dragged the kid to his knees and kicked one ankle over the other. “You wanna run?”

“Fuck you.” Hell, the boy was winded. And he’d planned to outrun them on foot? Shit. “You hear me? Fuck you!”

“Fuck me? Fuck
me
?” Troy Lee searched him, retrieving a pocketknife and sticking it in his own back pocket to be inventoried. “Dude, I’m not the one in cuffs and about to go to jail. Word of advice for next time—don’t run from me. I take it personal, and I
will
catch your ass.”

The kid responded by trying to spit on him. Sure he was secure, Troy Lee used the pressure points at his wrist to force him to his feet and turn them toward the road, just as Cookie reached them. He passed the knife over to Cookie, his gaze traveling beyond Cookie’s shoulder. Chris and the dog worked over the Honda, Hound’s tail wagging furiously as he hit on the trunk area. Two county units arrived and slid to a stop. Vann Starling and Steve Monroe climbed out to join Chris and take in the scene.

Cookie’s gray eyes glittered with conquest and adrenaline. “You did good, kid.”

Troy Lee returned Cookie’s wide grin with one of his own. Man, he couldn’t wait to tell Angel about this one.

“Hi, Dawn.” Aware of the slumbering babies, she kept her voice low. “How is he today?”

“Pretty good.” Dawn ushered her into the adjacent washroom so she could scrub. “We got to swap out the ventilator tube for an oxygen feed and his breathing seems stabilized.”

“That’s great.” Tori slipped her arms into the sterile gown Dawn proffered.

“Mama and Daddy in there are exhausted, I’m sure. If you could get them to take a break, eat something, that would be good. They need it.”

“I’ll do my best.” She crossed to her brother and sister-in-law. Dawn was right. They looked completely dragged out. Caitlin sat in a rocker, her tailored cotton blouse open so Lee, clad only in a diaper and with his tubing artfully arranged to be out of the way, could rest with his tiny bare chest over her heart. They’d draped a thin blanket to offer a modicum of privacy, but his dark head remained visible. Tick had dragged up a chair, his fingers laced through Caitlin’s. He’d leaned his head back, eyes closed.

“Hey, y’all.” Tori leaned down to feather a caress over Lee’s head. “Kangaroo care, huh?”

“Yes.” Caitlin smoothed the baby’s back. “We just swapped out. I think he”—she nodded in Tick’s direction—“finally dozed off.”

“Not asleep. Resting my eyes.” Tick’s voice emerged as a drowsy murmur. With a yawn, he straightened and rubbed a hand over his stubbled jaw. “What’s up?”

“I had a meeting with the new head of counseling services here and thought I’d come take y’all to lunch.” Under her fingers, Lee heaved a shuddering little sigh. His lids lifted a moment, then dropped again. A rush of love, mingled with a sharp longing, swirled through her. Could he be more precious? The too-familiar fantasy, the one that had only recently taken root, of holding her own baby, Mark’s baby, rose and she suppressed the maternal desire. Way too soon to be thinking about that. Although she was. A lot. “Or, if you two want to grab something alone together, I can stay with Lee.”

Her eyes filled with affection and a new uncertainty, Caitlin slanted a look at Tick. “I think I’d like to sit with him a little longer, since we’re going home tonight, but why don’t you go, Tick? You didn’t eat this morning.”

“You sure?” He gave her fingers a squeeze and let go.

“I am.” Her voice was as soft as her gaze on his face. “Y’all can bring me back something.”

“Okay.” He leaned over to brush his mouth across Lee’s tiny cheek. “We won’t be long.”

In the hallway, Tori wrapped her arm around his waist and hugged him on their way to the elevators. “So what sounds good? My treat.”

“Anything’s fine. We can walk down to the diner.” He punched the call button. He cleared his throat as the car arrived with a quiet ding. “You could call Cookie, see if he has time to join us.”

She stared at him as they entered the elevator, then smiled. “I’m sorry. What did you say? I don’t think I heard you correctly.”

“Tori.” He leaned against the wall, weariness etched into each movement. “Just call him if you’re going to.”

With a light laugh, she retrieved her cell from her purse, and using the speaker function, dialed Mark. He picked up on the second ring, but didn’t give her a chance to speak.

“Not now, honey,” he said, his words competing with a burst of excited male chatter and what she thought was Stanton Reed’s full laugh. “I’ll call you back.”

The line went dead and she stared at her phone. This was what she hated about dating a cop, the way it infiltrated every aspect of their lives. She lifted her gaze to Tick, who’d come to full alertness, speculation in his dark gaze.

“Wonder what that was about?” Not wanting to admit how miffed she was, she dropped the phone in her bag with a nonchalant air.

“No clue.” The elevator shuddered to a stop and he held the door with a hand to let her precede him. A grin played about his mouth. “But we can go by the department on the way to the diner.”

She rolled her eyes. She should have known he wouldn’t be able to resist.

The walk to the courthouse square only took a few minutes. Tick mounted the steps two at a time, stopping to hold the door for her. Even in the small foyer, a cacophony of laughter and energy swelled from the squad room.

“Hey, Miss Lydia.” Tick stopped to kiss her cheek. “What’s up?”

Lydia waved toward the hallway. “They made a drug bust early this afternoon and they’re playing the video from Troy Lee’s car.”

Tick’s brows lifted. “Troy Lee made a drug bust? Come on, Tor, I gotta see this.”

Tori trailed him. She didn’t get this part, the way they enthused over an arrest. The laughter and conversation grew louder as they approached the squad room, blending with the tinny sound of recorded voices.

“I’m telling you, it was
beautiful
.” Sheer glee colored Mark’s voice. He leaned against his desk, gaze trained, like every other man’s in the room, on the portable TV-DVD set up on the counter. “Textbook chase technique.”

On the screen, driver’s-vantage footage from a patrol car played, depicting a small car racing down Highway 3. Curvy, dangerous, widow-maker Highway 3. From the voices, she could tell Mark had been in that car with Troy Lee at what looked like incredible speeds.

And they were excited, laughing about it, like it was nothing more than an amusement-park ride. She didn’t get this part, either, and she wasn’t sure she liked it.

“Exactly how fast were you going?” Arms crossed over his chest, Stanton leaned forward for a better look.

“On the curve, about eighty-five. When we hit the straightaway, close to a hundred.” Troy Lee grinned and held up his index fingers, a few inches apart. “The road looked like it was about that wide.”

Steve Monroe nudged Mark’s shoulder. “Has your ass unpuckered yet?”

A ripple of male laughter moved around the room. Mark shifted, pointing at the television. “This is where he takes off on Haven Road.”

Stanton caught sight of Tick and waved him forward. “Hey, Tick, come here. You have to see this.”

Tori followed behind him, watching as the car sped onto a familiar dirt road, Troy Lee still in chase. Noticing her, Steve moved from his spot next to Mark. With a quick glance in her direction, Mark pulled her closer, his arm behind her, hand resting lightly on her hip. He landed a quick kiss somewhere in the vicinity of her mouth, his gaze straying back to the television. “Hey, baby. Watch this. It’s unbelievable.”

That was certainly one word for it.

Dust obscured the action, the patrol car slowing, the Honda visible at the edges of the video as it came to a rest in the ditch. The camera shook, metal grinding on the audio as voices tumbled over one another.

“And Troy Lee destroys another patrol car.” Chris Parker’s deadpan comment brought forth another swell of laughter.

“The car isn’t destroyed. It just damaged the paint on the door. How is that my fault?”

“Because you were there and it’s easy to blame you?” Steve offered.

“I think this makes up for killing the first patrol car, Troy Lee.” Stanton tapped Tick’s chest with the backs of two fingers. “Almost fifteen pounds of marijuana, several thousand dollars street value in bagged meth, and nearly five grand in cash in the car. Kid driving the car has felony warrants in Florida for multiple drug charges. Guess he was using 3 as the back way into Florida, to avoid I-75.”

Tick nodded. “Good deal, Troy Lee.”

Tori nudged Mark’s side. “We were going to get something to eat and thought you might like to join us.”

Mark’s brows lifted and he met Tick’s gaze before Tick shrugged in one of their silent communications she’d witnessed more times than she could count. A smile quirked at Mark’s mouth. “Yeah, I could take an hour.”

Outside, she paused to pull her sunglasses from her bag. Tick and Mark descended the steps behind her, talking in low voices.

“So
has
your ass unpuckered yet?” Fairly certain Tick’s words weren’t meant for her ears, Tori shook her head. Men.

Mark laughed quietly. “Man, he wasn’t kidding about how narrow that road looked at that speed. Let me tell you, I don’t like not being the one behind the wheel.”

“And you call me a control freak.”

She turned to pin them with a look. “Can we go, please?”

Once they reached the diner and ordered, she ran a fingertip around the rim of her tea glass. “I can’t believe you’re this excited over something so dangerous.”

In the booth beside her, Mark stilled. His gaze lifted to Tick’s, then shifted to her. “Honey, this is what I do.”

“Well, I get that, and I get it’s dangerous sometimes.” She frowned. “But I don’t get why you’re all acting like it’s the greatest thing since sliced bread.”

“Adrenaline.” Tick sipped at his coffee. “It’s hard to explain, Tori, unless you get a rush from it.”

“Tori, baby, listen.” Atop the table, Mark took her hand in his. “Troy Lee handled that car better than anyone I’ve seen in, well, ever. I was as safe as possible and everything went well. Don’t worry.”

“It’s kind of hard not to, when you’re off—”

“Hey, Cookie, heard that chase on the radio earlier.” The paramedic who stopped by their table had a pleasant, earnest face under close-cropped sandy hair. Jim…something. Tyrone, Tyrell. Something with a T and a y. The smiling blonde holding his hand seemed familiar, but it took Tori a couple of seconds to place her. Rhonda, the new teller at the bank. “Sounds like y’all had some excitement going on.”

Mark shifted and rubbed a hand over his mouth. “Yeah, guess so.”

“Hey, have you met my wife?” With a proud, eager grin, he drew her forward. “Rhonda, honey, this is Mark Cook—we all call him Cookie—and Tick Calvert. They’re with the sheriff’s department.” His gaze jumped to Tori. “And I’m sorry, I don’t—”

“Tori, right?” Rhonda extended a hand. “You’ve come through my line a couple of times at the bank.”

With a warm smile, Tori shook her hand. “That’s right. So you’re new to Coney?”

“Yes, and I love it.” Practically glowing, Rhonda turned into Jim’s side, patting his chest, providing her wedding rings with maximum exposure and sparkle. “Jimmy and I met while he was in Biloxi, and we had a whirlwind courtship.”

“She’s the best thing that ever happened to me.” Jim touched her cheek with a reverent fingertip.

“How romantic.” Tori’s smile widened. They were so
cute
together. Mark coughed into his hand, and she turned to find him and Tick doing the unspoken communication thing again, with a series of looks and lifted brows. Ignoring them, she focused on Jim and Rhonda again. “It was nice meeting you.”

“You too.” Rhonda waggled her fingers in a wave, again flashing the diamond on her left hand and pulled Jim toward an empty table. “Come on, honey.”

Tick shot a quick glance at Mark. “Is that the same ring he—”

“That would be the one.” Mark lifted his water for a slow sip.

“What an ass.” Tick stared after the couple with disbelief glinting in his eyes. “He’s not even sorry.”

“What are you talking about?” Tori shook out her napkin and placed it in her lap. “And what was with the eyebrows and the—” She gestured to indicate invisible words. “Y’all were almost rude. They’re cute as all get out. What does he have to be sorry for?”

Mark’s utter stillness beside her sank in and she looked sideways to find him sitting, eyes closed, elbow propped on the table, while he pinched the bridge of his nose. She swung her attention to her brother, who was suddenly the picture of discomfort, pulling his wallet from his back pocket and looking anywhere but at her.

Foreboding shivered through her. “
What
is going on?”

“I’m going to head back to the hospital.” Tick slid from the booth.

Confused, Tori turned over a palm, face up. “You haven’t eaten yet.”

“I’ll get Shanna to pack it to go for me and eat with Cait.”

Mark dropped his hand to glare at him. “Thanks a lot, man.”

Fixing him with a hard look, Tick shrugged. “Hey, you made your—”

“Don’t. Say. It.” A muscle flicked in Mark’s jaw, and Tori shifted, the swift, rolling animosity between the two making her stomach flutter.

Tick lifted both hands in surrender, but his expression didn’t soften until he leaned down to kiss Tori’s cheek. “I’ll see you later.”

He strode to the counter, waited a moment for his sandwich to be packed up with Caitlin’s, then disappeared outside. Tori counted slowly to ten, lining up her silverware while she did so. Once the wild nerves in her belly were calmed, she took a breath and looked up to meet Mark’s shuttered gaze. “Do you want to explain that to me? I’m utterly lost, but I don’t like what just happened.”

He jerked his head toward the back corner, where Jim and Rhonda were canoodling. “You don’t know Jim well, do you?”

“No. I’ve seen him at the ER couple of times when I was working an assault, but that’s it. Why?”

“He was engaged, for the most part, to Angel Henderson.”

Oh no. Not that name again. She closed her eyes as her stomach dropped, suddenly hollow and hurting. Maybe she didn’t want answers after all. Maybe she just wanted to forget Angel Henderson had ever existed. She exhaled, counting once more.