Trial by Fire (8 page)

“Damn. Since when did you
ask
me for anything? It’s always been ‘Stryker, do this,’ ‘do that, or I’ll eat your ass.’ Don’t tell me you’re gonna start going soft on me, Chief? Hell, I wouldn’t know how to respond.”

The Chief grimaced again. “It’s like this, Nate. You know Roscoe James, the Police Commissioner in LA County. We go way back. Roscoe was with me and Halloran in ‘Nam. This is the first time in all these years he’s called on me for help.”

Nate frowned. “What’s it got to do with me?”

Roberts sighed. “Let me cut to the chase. They have a guy they’re grooming for a big role in the LAPD. Leadership. You know the gig, how it goes. Who you know counts a lot in those big departments. The guy is already a superstar in his own right. But Roscoe wanted to give him a sense of what it’s like to head up a smaller department.”

Nate groaned and interrupted. “Oh Christ, don’t tell me. Some Senator’s son wants to be police chief so all the lackeys in the department are pokin’ their asses in the air to show what suck-ups they can be. And now they want the precocious prick to see how the other half lives. What the poh-leese in the piss-poor towns do? Jesus, Chief!”

Chief Roberts shook his head. “You don’t have to believe it, Nate, but Roscoe wanted this guy to see
you
in action. To see what a real leader does in the field. You know damn well every department in the country is after you. Apparently this guy knows that and asked Roscoe if he could arrange a ‘sabbatical’ of sorts for him. To spend a couple of months working with you.”

Nate sighed and shook his head in disgust. “And now in the middle of what you just said is the biggest case we’re likely to have in a decade—no, the century—you want me to have a snot nosed little sycophant, follow me around to see how the men with the big dicks do it?”

Chief Roberts shrugged. “Roscoe asked me for a favor, and so I’m asking you. Besides, it’s only for two months and the guy seems genuine enough. Look Nate, he’s waiting for us in my office. If after an hour or so, you don’t think it’ll work, fine. I’ll tell Roscoe given everything else going on, this isn’t something we can do at this time. It’s your call.”

Nate snorted, his voice heavy with sarcasm. “Right. Like I’ve ever NOT done what you asked me to do in twenty-two fucking years!”

The Chief barked in mock anger. “What the hell are you talking about, Nate? How many times have I told you to get your fucking hair cut?!”

Running his hands through his hair that brushed against his collar, Nate smiled at him and repeated his time honored response, “Yeah, yeah, yeah.”

~~~

Nate followed Chief Roberts into his office and saw the back of a tall man sitting in one of the chairs in front of the Chief’s desk, apparently texting on his smart phone. When he heard them come in the man uncoiled himself from the chair, turned and nodded to them.

Nate barked out a rough laugh and huffed, “You’ve gotta be kidding!”

At Chief Roberts’ frown, Nate shook his head. “Relax Chief, I’m not dissing the black guy. Sam and I have already met.”

Sam smiled at the Chief to reassure him.

“Detective Stryker is correct, Chief Roberts. We had an opportunity to meet earlier.”

Nate guffawed. “Yeah, and the fucker came as close as anyone has to schooling me in the ring. Fortunately for him, I didn’t have to bring out my Brazilian Jiu Jitsu or it’s likely he’d be asking for a return flight to LA.”

Sam merely shrugged and gave him a slight bow. “Perhaps we can discuss that later, Detective.”

Nate grinned, but his flashing green eyes indicated he was less than amused.

“Yeah, that’s who I am, Sam. Just as I introduced myself to you earlier. Now if you would be kind enough to return the favor. Who the hell are you? What do I call you? Captain? Commander? Son of the Virgin Mary? Batman?”

Sam replied quietly, “My current rank is Commander.”

Nate gave a derisive snort. “Impressive, Sam. A Commander? At what age? What are you 28, 30?”

“No, you and I are the same age, Nate. We’re both thirty-six.”

Nate raked his eyes over the tall distinguished man dressed in a casual suit that likely cost what Nate made in two month’s pay.

“I’m surprised you didn’t become a lawyer. You could have made a hell of a lot more money.”

Sam shrugged. “I did—become a lawyer that is.”

Nate huffed. “Then you decided that as a black man, even someone with your connections, you should hang out with the riff raff on occasion? Get some street cred? So you became a cop?”

The Chief audibly sighed in the background.

Sam replied calmly. “Yes to both of your insulting questions. And because, I wanted a job where I could carry a gun. To take out badasses, whether they’re in the gangs or in the upper ranks of the police force.”

Nate couldn’t suppress the chuckle that rose in his throat.

“Damn, Carter. You better watch your six. I could start likin’ you if you’re not careful.”

Nate stepped back and shoved his hands in his jeans. Holding Sam’s gaze, he gave him an ironic grin.

“By the way, which Senator?”

Sam frowned, “I beg your pardon?”

“Which senator is your father? Or your uncle? Or your long-lost godfather?”

Sam looked puzzled, then a flash of understanding crossed his face. He put up his hand in concession. “Neither my father nor any of my uncles is a senator.”

A slight smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“However, my father
is
the Chief Justice of the California Supreme Court.”

Chapter 8

“Fuck! Is this what it’s been like all morning?”

Dan gave an aggrieved sigh. “It’s a fucking circus, Nate. Since 6 a.m. this morning. It’s a damn good thing we got the body out before the press vultures arrived. Hell, they probably would have insisted on seeing it and ripped it out of the body bag. Freedom of the press and all that shit! I had to put on a full contingent of officers just to maintain the perimeter.”

Nate turned to Sam Carter who was sitting in the back of Dan’s cruiser and shot him an ironic grin.

“So the big L.A. hotshot wants to see how the police work in small town USA? Welcome to ChicadiafuckingFalls, Sam.”

Sam grinned. “Have to say I’m impressed. We couldn’t turn out a crowd like this for Paris Hilton.”

Nate didn’t try to hide his disgust.

“This is about as close as you’re gonna get to Paris Hilton in our little burg—or all of Minnesota. I don’t think ‘His Royal Badness’ could generate this kind of attention. At least Prince pretends to be a reclusive. You’ll never meet a bigger camera whore than Laura Peterson. Even in L.A. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if she doesn’t try to use her husband’s death to get that movie contract she’s been after for the last five years.”

As Dan swerved to avoid the reporters and camera men huddled three deep at the entrance to the estate, Sam craned his head to see past the press trucks.

“Who is she? I don’t get it. And who notified the press?”

Nate groaned silently. How do you sum up Laura to someone who’s never met her? Christ, even knowing her as well as he did it was hard to describe the woman who’d turned his life to shit. He corrected himself. Who had once made his life hell. Before Erin. He kept his voice neutral, let Sam come to his own conclusions.

“She’s a former lingerie model. If you’re used to jacking off to their Christmas covers like 90% of the men in the world, you’ll probably recognize her.”

Sam whistled. “Don’t tell me, bro, that ‘Laura’ is
the
Laura Chambers. Damn, she’s known even in the big city of L.A.”

Nate sniffed and parked his Oakley polarized sunglasses on the top of his head. “Yeah, I’m not surprised. We know her as Laura Chumpter. She changed her name when she got the lingerie contract.”

Honking repeatedly to clear the entrance to the driveway, Dan added tentatively to the conversation. “Not that Nate would mention it, but in these parts, he’s as much as a celebrity as Laura is.”

Nate shook his head and threw his partner a warning glance.

“Stuff it, Dan. Let our hotshot discover his own gossip. No need to perpetuate the crap that bored people use to liven up their lives.”

Dan ignored him and winked at Sam in the rearview mirror.

“Just so you know who you’re riding with Sam, Nate is known as the all-night wonder. Hell, he’s been known to take on as many as eight women at one wedding shower alone. And that’s in addition to his conviction rate. There isn’t a woman who isn’t chasing after him, and a perp who isn’t running away, scared shitless.”

Sam’s voice was tinged with suppressed laughter.

“I’m aware of the conviction rate. It’s all the news in police circles. But have to admit I hadn’t heard about your prolific work at wedding showers. I’m curious, Nate. How do you wrangle an invitation to a wedding shower? Or do you pop out of a cake or something?”

Nate didn’t hide his disgust. “Jesus Christ, Dan. If you’re gonna tell stories at least get your fucking numbers straight. It was eleven women and since you asked, Sam, they usually bring the party to me. What’s a guy supposed to do? Slam the door in the face of nubile women drunk out of their minds? And to end this conversation before it begins, Dan is referring to ancient history. Any of the things I may or may not have done in the past are ‘pre-Erin.’ Why the hell would I pig out on empty calories when I have access to the Feast of the Gods?”

Dan nodded in agreement. “You’re right about that, Nate. The stars went out in a lotta guys eyes when they learned that Erin fell for the big guy. But then, Nate, you always were the luckiest son of a bitch I’ve ever known.”

“Not always, Dan, by a long shot. But
now
? You’re damn right.”

Nate threw a hard glare at Sam. “And hotshot, the only thing you need to know about me and women is that I’m in love with the most beautiful woman alive and can’t believe my luck.”

He was silent for a minute then added with a shrug, “Oh yeah, and that once I was married to Laura Chumpter.”

When they exited the car, dozens of reporters pressed against the barriers shouting Nate’s name, trying to get his attention.

“It’s Stryker!” “Damn, it’s Nate Stryker.” “Hey Nate, come and talk to us?” “Are you heading up the investigation?” “Won’t that be hard with Laura?” “Who did it, Detective?” “Is it true they cut him up?” “Was Laura there when it happened?” “Look over here, Nate!” Come and talk to the cameras!”

Nate huffed an annoyed sigh and dropped his sunglasses over his eyes as the cameras flashed behind them. Sam stared at him and then at Dan.

“Jesus, bro, you weren’t kidding were you? Hell, Nate, I might never go back to L.A. We never have this much fun. How about I start out in traffic? Anything to work my way up to strolling in with the—what did Dan call you? The ‘Big Guy’?”

Nate growled in annoyance. “Depends on what you call fun, hotshot. Me? I’d rather have a root canal without Novocain than deal with these yahoos. And that doesn’t begin to describe how I feel about the upcoming interview with Mrs. Peterson.”

Sam quickly moved up next to him. “Nate, I apologize. That was a tasteless remark. I can only imagine how difficult this will be.”

Nate snorted. “You haven’t got that good an imagination, hotshot. Whatever you are envisioning, you can trust Laura to top it.”

~~~

A frazzled uniformed policeman met them at the door.

“I’m sorry, Nate, but Laura, I mean Mrs. Peterson, insists that she isn’t able to come out of her bedroom, even to meet with you. Says she’s still too weak.”

“She did know that I was coming, correct, Matt?”

The young officer flushed.

“Yes, she did. We told her several hours ago and Charlie, Detective Hanson, reminded her thirty minutes ago. But… well, just so you know, she wasn’t dressed the last time I went to the door.” Matt added without enthusiasm, “If you want me to, I will tell her that you are here and that she needs to come down.” He flushed, “Although, I’m not sure that will make a difference. She hasn’t been receptive to any of our requests. And she refused to answer any questions that the preliminary team had for her. Says that she is too tired and that we will have to wait until she feels better. I don’t know if she will see you, Detective….”

Nate allowed a glimmer of a smile to cross his face.

“She’ll see me Matt. In the dining room, at the table. Please have the transcription clerk set up her equipment.”

Pointing to the ornately carved staircase, he nodded to Sam and Dan.

“You can come with me if you wish to get our reluctant witness.” His lip quirked. “I suggest you do, Sam. Some sights you don’t want to miss.”

Sam raised a questioning brow but fell into place as Nate trotted up the stairs.

Seeing Sam’s eyes widen at the sight of the multi colored tile, faux marble columns, and twelve foot wide chandelier in the entry way, Nate stifled a grin. He couldn’t wait until the understated man saw Laura’s bedroom. Guess there were some perks to having Sam on board after all. Having Dudley Do-Right as a shadow might provide some much-needed humor. As if he knew what Sam was thinking, he offered some additional facts to underscore what they were dealing with.

“In case you didn’t bring your calculator, Mike put thirteen varieties of wood in this place. Guess he couldn’t make up his mind. Or wanted to show his customers what they could do if they had more money than God.”

He ambled up the staircase and ushered Dan and Sam into Laura’s bedroom. Sam’s gasp was worth price of admission. In the daylight, the room was even more garish. Sam’s astonished reaction was reflected in the floor to ceiling mirrors. Nate winked at Dan when Sam’s eyes landed on the 12x12 foot mirror under the pink and white canopy on Laura’s massive bed. Dan’s responding nod indicated he was enjoying their colleague’s amazement as much as Nate had enjoyed his the night before.

Sam’s eyes widened more if possible when he saw Laura. She was stretched out on the pink velvet lounger where she’d been last night. She was dressed—if you could call it that—in a

gold lame halter and matching boy shorts. When she saw them and rose to her feet, her shimmery transparent robe fell open. Nate couldn’t help but notice that her magnificent breasts, barely contained by the halter, seemed larger than he remembered. Knowing her penchant for plastic surgery, leave it to Laura to make a great thing even better—or at least bigger. Her abbreviated shorts were cut high on her buttocks, showing off the first class ass that had once made him drool at the mere thought. Instead he was struck by how inappropriate she looked. The robe was a measly attempt at providing a cover to her “outfit” but if anything the shiny transparent fabric just made the body beneath more enticing. Nate was surprised and gratified that rather than interest, his overriding response was disgust.