Big Girls Don't Cry (4 page)

Lexie continued to stare at him, then agreed. “Yes, I know the kind of work Anthony did. But he never discussed his missions with me. That was his choice. He tried to protect me. He didn’t want his work to touch me, to affect me.”

Staring at her clenched fists in her lap, the hideous irony struck her. Anthony always worried that something bad would happen to her because of his dangerous work. The scum he chased. But they’d gone after him, not her. And he was right. The worst possible thing had happened to her. The person she loved more than anything in the world was dead. She looked up realizing that the chief was talking to her.

He pointed at the big man sitting confidently at the end of the table. “Special Agent Gardner here just came in from Fort Bragg. Since Anthony’s body was found on the base, we’ll be sharing jurisdiction.”

Looking to the special agent, the chief heaved an enormous sigh and shook his head. “Hell, Jake, I hope you don’t think for a minute that we aren’t damn glad that you’re on the case. That’s the only good news we’ve had in this whole mess. We can use all the help we can get. Christ, you get into the drug rings here and it’s like pokin’ your head in a wasp’s nest looking for the one wasp with a green stripe on his ass instead of a black one.”

Lexie stood and began sorting her papers. She threw Agent Gardner an impervious nod.

“Please give me my letter. I need it so I am clear where I stand with the Yuma Police Department.”

Agent Gardner nodded in return and sent the letter back up the table. She didn’t thank him or even acknowledge him. Instead, as she had throughout the conversation, she turned on the Chief.

“I’m sure you are pleased that Special Agent Gardner has graced you with his presence. No doubt you men will have many long sessions--bull sessions--testing each other’s theories, looking for strengths and weaknesses in your arguments. Perhaps you will make charts, blueprints, and spreadsheets of all the important information you gather. In the meantime, while you are attending your meetings, preparing your various reports for each and every level of government trying to cover its ass, I will be gathering real information. From the only source that counts, the streets.”

She gave Chief Burton a frosty smile. She tapped on the table, a harsh rasping sound as if to get his attention. The huge man looked as if he didn’t dare look away.

“Tomorrow at 10:00 a.m. I’ll be back. Please have a list of the men who worked undercover with Anthony. I need their telephone numbers and email addresses. I also want all the reports that have been turned in to date, along with transcriptions of interviews with any and all witnesses.” She dropped her folio in her large canvas bag and slung it over her shoulder. “Oh, and I want a copy of the full autopsy report.”

Agent Gardner and the chief rose to their feet at the same time. Clearly flustered, the chief protested, “Now, listen here, young lady, you know very well we can’t give out that kind of information to a private citizen. This is an ongoing investigation.”

Alexis lifted her chin and said in a haughty voice. “Really? I understood from your letter that your investigation is at a dead end.” Before he could answer, she turned and walked toward the door. Looking back over her shoulder, she seared him with one last glare.

Lexie frowned, annoyed and surprised that he called her by her first name. The familiarity rankled. Clearly he was accustomed to issuing orders – even if they came dressed in southern chivalry.

She tossed her head and slanted him a glare as cold as those she’d showered on the chief of police for the previous hour.

“Don’t bother. I saw myself in. I can see myself out.”

He reached around her and opened the door, enclosing her between the door and his huge body. Looming over her, he took hold of her elbow and led her into the hallway. Pulling the door behind them, he said with a slight chuckle, “Grandmothers and all that.”

When the door closed, he turned to her with a serious expression.

“Alexis, I want to talk with you. Do you have time to come to my office? It is just around the corner.”

Lexie shook her head and stepped away. His presence was overwhelming. This big man made her nervous. Without dwelling on it, she knew it was his uniform. He wore the ACU camouflage that Anthony used to wear. The green beret visible in his pants pocket said it all. From the steely-eyed way he looked at her, she knew that she wouldn’t be able to push him around the way she had the chief. Unlike the police chief, Agent Gardner was quietly confident, not the least intimidated by her. He was looking at her, as if he had something important to say. It frightened her.

She wanted to leave. The meeting had taken its toll. The references to Anthony, hearing his name spoken by people she didn’t know, people she didn’t want to know, was painful. Each time she heard his name, the reality hit her, a physical blow. Anthony was dead. And tomorrow she would look at his personal things, his autopsy report. The experience with the eight men had shaken her foundation. She’d managed to put on a good act. But she could tell from the way her legs were shaking that she only had minutes before the panic flared. She needed air. Or to run. Anything to leave this building where death was a common topic of conversation, where grief stricken people sat in ugly metal chairs waiting to talk with the men and women who faced death and grief too often to let it affect them.

She glanced up to see Agent Gardner looking at her through narrowed eyes, knowing eyes. The kindness in his expression unnerved her, threatened her shaky reserves. It took her a moment to remember his question. He wanted to talk to her. Keep her longer, to talk about Anthony.

When she jerked away from his grasp, he added, “How about tomorrow when you come to pick up the things you requested from Chief Burton?”

His quiet certainty reassured her and disturbed her at the same time. This was a man accustomed to commanding. Strong men and women did what he told them to do and didn’t ask questions. She wondered what happened to his quiet authority when someone – someone like her—bucked his requests. When she looked up at him, she saw he had not moved. He regarded her solemnly, as if he was drilling down, beneath the hard shell she kept tightly sheathed around her.

“Tomorrow, then?”

She took another step backward, glancing over her shoulder at the exit that seemed far down the hallway. His knowing look threatened her –and annoyed her.

“I don’t know. It depends on how the meeting goes with the chief. And… my schedule, what else I have going on...”

She couldn’t believe the way that her voice trailed off. God, had she actually stammered? What was wrong with her? What was it about him that was so unsettling? Of all the people she had met in this hideous place, he was the kindest, the most competent. He actually could help her. But there was something about him that disturbed her. He would demand things of her in return, more than she was willing to give. He would want to know her, know what she was thinking, worm his way under the reserves it had taken her a lifetime to construct.

She closed her eyes to shut out the gruesome memories. When she opened them he was frowning at her, his concern apparent. She looked him in the eye.

Chapter 3

Jake watched her walk down the hallway. Even in those outrageous high heels, she had the loose animal grace of a sensuous cat on the prowl. Her long slender legs in the short skirt hovering several inches above her knees scored a second look from every man in the hallway. Their perusal didn’t stop at her legs. Her bright red suit in a sea of grey and brown showcased her curvy hips and high full breasts, capturing admiring glances and appreciative grins.

He remembered Anthony telling him that his sister was a martial artist. He saw it in her bearing, her fierceness. He shook his head, remembering the way she cowed that roomful of men. Hardened cops, military grunts like himself. He smiled, wondering when the chief would recover from the dressing down he’d received from the beautiful young woman half his size and half his age.

And, damn, she was beautiful. She reminded Jake of her brother. Anthony had been a strikingly handsome man. His sister was stunning. Her hair was streaked with myriad shades of blond, like sunlight skimming a golden pond. She’d twisted it up on the top of her head, held in a casual clip. Stray curls, wisps of gold sprung free, shadowing her face and neck. He wondered for a guilty moment what it would look like, hanging free, soft, and wavy around her shoulders.

Her skin was pale, fair, a natural rosiness highlighting her high cheekbones. Her lips were full, as though she bit them often in frustration or, he thought with a grin, more likely, annoyance. But it was her eyes that obsessed him. Shadowed by dark brows and lashes, they were stormy grey, almost black. Granted, most of the time they were flashing with anger that intensified the color. What haunted him as he walked back to the conference room was the pain that underlay the anger.

Jake grew up in North Carolina’s Smoky Mountains. He’d done his share of hunting as a kid. More than a few times, he’d freed animals from cruel traps other hunters set. Perilously near death, these animals stubbornly clung to life. He never forgot their eyes. They reminded him of Alexis: proud, angry, and vulnerable.

~~~

Jake strode into the conference room and grinned at the cluster of men huddling by the coffee pot poking through a box of tired looking sugary doughnuts. He motioned to the table. Without comment, all of the men hurried back to their places, joining the chief, who was comparing notes with his deputy.

Jake took his time refilling his cup, giving the men time to settle in. When the room was quiet, he walked back to his chair at the head of the table. He glanced at the chief, who silently conceded his authority to Jake.

“Anthony Beloi was my team mate, my friend. He had my back on more missions than I can count. In places and situations no human being should endure. He was the hardest assed fighter and most compassionate man I have ever known. He was no jump chump. He was the first one in and the last to leave. There wasn’t a man among us who didn’t like and respect him.”

Jake hesitated to let his words sink in and to control the painful emotions gripping his chest.

“I only saw Anthony a couple of times after he left active duty. But I know he was as committed to his work in the Yuma Police Department as he was with the Green Berets.”

Pausing for emphasis, he laid down his marker.

“I wasn’t talking out of my ass when I told that young woman, Anthony’s sister, that no report will be written or any files closed by the U. S. Army OR the YPD until the person or persons responsible for his death are apprehended and punished.”

All the men around the table nodded in agreement, their expressions as fierce as Jake’s.

With a heavy sigh, the chief jumped in.

“Hell, Jake, we’re all with you one hundred percent. Anthony was a fuckin’ superstar. In all my years, I’ve never had a more accomplished undercover guy. Damn, he could move in the shadows like he was born in them. I’ve never seen a guy who could fit in the way he could, insinuate himself in any situation, whether it was a confab with a passel of gang bangers or a meeting with the mayor. He was a fuckin’ chameleon. And you got my word that no one is gonna rest until we haul in the asswipes who killed our guy. I know he was a beret, but hell, he was also a cop. Our cop.”

A chorus of agreement rang out. Jake gave the men time to speak, to remember Anthony. The stories were poignant, some funny, some hardcore, all were heartfelt. He was gratified that Anthony affected the men in this police department the way that he had his team. When they turned back to him for orders, Jake knew he had their cooperation.

“Okay, men, I want every transcript, every piece of evidence, and every fucking clue, no matter how unimportant it seems, on my desk by 8 a.m. tomorrow morning. We’ll meet then. Lt. Morrison is my point man. Anything you need from me or to say to me can go through Clint. We’re joined at the hip. Oh, and while you’re at it, make a copy of those materials for Miss Beloi.”