BM03 - Crazy Little Thing Called Dead (24 page)

“What? Isn’t that illegal or something?” I asked, outraged. Well almost outraged, I’d done it to him too, after all.

“Hey, Bree,” Steve said through a mouthful of Ruben. “Maybe you shouldn’t be so worried about what’s illegal, considering what you were up to.”

“That’s it? You just stuck a GPS on me and followed me around?” It seemed too easy.

“Your browser history helped. It was clear you were after Ledroit.” Hambecker forked some mac and cheese in his mouth. “This is good.”

“I thought I erased my browser history. Yum, this is good.” I took another drink of chocolate shake. “I’m coming here next time I’m in New York.”

“Browser history isn’t that easy to get rid of,” Hambecker said. “You’d have to be a lot more of an expert than you are.”

“How come all three of you came? Aren’t you and Steve supposed to be
Vermont
State Troopers?” I asked Tom.

“We’re off duty,” Steve said. “And we didn’t know exactly what you had planned. It was going to take more than one person to ditch a dead body.”

The ramifications of two cops and a federal agent hiding a body for me left me speechless for a moment.

“But what about the SWAT team. How’d they get involved?” I asked.

“I tracked down Victor. He agreed to turn state’s evidence if we protected Ronnie. It was an easy deal to make. With his evidence we’re able to arrest her on charges of murder, attempted murder, arson and racketeering. She won’t be getting out on bail. This time.”

“Getting home is what I’m concerned about now,” Tom said. “I think you should let Steve drive your truck.”

“You can ride home with me.” Hambecker was spooning up the last remains of his pasta.

“I can drive. I just won’t take any pain pills.” Someone in my head was saying
stupid, stupid, stupid
.

“It’s five hours, Bree. That’s a long time to be in pain. Why don’t you let Steve drive your truck back and you can ride with me. You could sleep the whole way if you want to.” Hambecker looked me full in the eyes, face calm but unsmiling.

I thought about this while I chewed on my fries. I’m stubborn, I know this about myself. Independent, too. My immediate response was to say, “No.” I’d drive myself. Hambecker was watching me, gauging my response, I thought. I had serious misgivings about dating a federal agent, but I would be heartbroken if I let him go. Crap. I was going to have to compromise. I swallowed.

“I’ll ride back with you,” I said.

He smiled. And it wasn’t a self-satisfied I-know-best smile. It was a soft, she-likes-me-enough-to-give-up-a-little-control smile. It made me feel warm inside.

After we’d finished Tom looked at me. “Ready to do this the legal way?”

“Yeah. I’m ready.”

***

I gave my statement in a scary looking building in the Federal Plaza in Manhattan. I felt shabby in my jeans and t-shirt – I hadn’t actually packed for anything other than the take down of Madam Michèle Ledroit. I was escorted to a small room and left to wait by myself while the Law Enforcement Officers—Tom, Steve and Hambecker—went to discuss the case with somebody important.

“Fuck,” I said, and then, “Sorry,” in case anyone was listening. There wasn’t a mirror in the room, but I figured now they had cameras, they probably didn’t need to use two-way glass. It definitely felt like an interrogation room. I hadn’t taken any painkillers because I wanted to seem alert and trustworthy, and—let’s face it—awake, and I regretted that now. My leg throbbed, my head pounded and I was bored.

After sitting primly in the chair for about an hour I gave up, put my head on the table and groaned. “I’m in pain here, people. Maybe whoever’s listening could tell someone to put a fire under their ass.” I wasn’t going to be able to go to sleep as much as I now wanted to. I was uncomfortable and self-conscious.

I was saying, “Hey, y’all, I need to use the ladies’ room,” when Tom walked in with a very starched and official official.

“MacGowan, what are you doing?” He looked at me like I had two heads.

“Talking to whoever is listening.” I said.

Tom looked at the suit. “Is this room bugged?”

“There’s a microphone for recording statements, but it isn’t on. There’s a restroom down the hall on your right.” He pointed down the hall.

I got up and fled to the ladies’ feeling foolish. When I came out again, all the doors looked the same and I stood in the hall wondering if I should just start knocking on doors or yell for Tom or what. Luckily, before I started either option Tom stuck his head out and motioned me back in the room.

“You thought you were locked in here?” He asked.

“No one said anything to me. They just put me in here and said someone would be in to take my statement. They didn’t say I could go down the hall or anything. Can we get this over with Tom? My leg hurts like a son of a bitch.”

“Did your medication wear off?” Tom asked.

“I didn’t take any. I pass right out—ask Hambecker—every time I take those things. I thought it might be important to be coherent.” My eyes stung like I might cry again, but I blinked hard and kept myself together.

The suit who had been studying me as if I was some kind of alien while I talked with Tom, finally stuck out his hand. “Senior Agent Andrew Smith,” he said. “I’m sorry you were under the impression that you weren’t free to come and go. This is a sensitive case and we wanted to get input from Agent Hambecker before hearing what you had to say. If I’d realized you’d been wounded,” at this he shot a look at Tom, “I would have seen you first. I understand you were present when the body of Albin Shvakova was found?”

“Yes,” I took a breath. What followed was another hour and a half of monolog on my part, punctuated by questions on Agent Smith’s part. He was most interested in my version of the take-down.

He eventually released me and escorted me to the cafeteria where he bought me lunch and a soda. “Take your medications,” he said. “Agent Hambecker will be down to get you before you fall asleep. Again, my apologies for neglecting you.”

“It’s okay, I’m fine.” I lied. It didn’t seem like the right time to complain; he had, after all, just bought me lunch.

“I expect to be seeing you at the trial.” He set my tray on a small table in a private corner of the room.

“The trial?” My voice jumped into the soprano register. “I have to go to the trial?”
Of course you have to go to the trial, Bree. You’re a witness
. “Sorry, yes, of course. I just hadn’t thought about it.”

I shook his hand and when he turned to walk away I sat and fished the bottle of oxycodone out of my bag. My head was pounding so hard I didn’t think I was going to be able to eat my food, but I took a bite so the narcotic wouldn’t go straight to my head. Just what I needed was for Hambecker to find me face down in my lunch tray. I ate what I could and wrapped up the rest for the trip home.

Hambecker arrived before I totally passed out, although I could tell the drugs were taking effect. The pain was subsiding and I was feeling fuzzy and tired.

“Oh hell,” he said when he saw me. “Let’s get you out of here.”

“That is no way to greet your potential girlfriend.” I was finding it hard to enunciate my words.

“Maybe not, but let’s face it: ‘oh hell’ is the thing that springs to mind most of the time I see you.” He picked up my tray and dumped the trash.

“Gee, I’ve got such a swell guy! He says the sweetest things to me.” I stood up and swayed beside the table.

“Can you be a little quieter? This is where my boss works.” He put his arm around me and started to hustle me out.

“I’m sorry, am I too loud?” I leaned over to a smartly dressed woman sitting alone at a table for two. “Am I too loud? I hope I’m not disturbing you.”

“Sorry,” Hambecker said. “Oxycodone.”

The woman smiled at him in a totally inappropriate manner and I was going to have to tell her off but Hambecker whisked me out the door and into an elevator.

“Boy, you really can’t handle your sedatives, can you?” He punched the button for the Lobby.

“What do you mean? Just because you don’t like what I’m saying doesn’t mean I can’t handle drugs. If you treated me better, this wouldn’t be an issue.” I leaned against him. “It’s a good thing you’re big and strong.”

“Why’s that?” He frowned down at me.

“Because I think I’m going to sleep now.”

The last thing I heard before my eyes closed was, “Oh hell.”

***

It was dark, and the lights from the dash were reflecting off Hammie’s face. I looked at the freeway signs, trying to get a bead on where we were, but nothing looked familiar. In fact, it was mostly just dark.

“Where are we?” I asked.

“Sleeping beauty awakes. We’re in upstate New York. Passed Albany about thirty minutes ago.” Oncoming headlights lit his face. He looked tired.

“I like this way best. Did you have trouble getting me in the car?” I asked.

“Not once I got out of the building. At one point I thought I was going to have to get Agent Smith to come clear me. They wouldn’t let me out of the building without pulling my ID. I guess carrying women from the building just isn’t done.” He smiled.

“How’d you get it out of your pocket?” I imagined him handing me to some poor unsuspecting security guard.

“A security agent had to remove it from my pocket for me. Embarrassed the hell out of her.” The glow of the instrument panel lit his face but I couldn’t see his expression. He might have been grinning.

“Just think, without me your life would be so boring.” I put my hand on his arm. He was so solid.

“Boring. Right. And here I was thinking
normal
.” He was smiling again.

“I hate to tell you this, Hambecker, but you’re a federal agent. Your life is anything but normal.” In fact, it was even less normal than mine. Which was saying something.

“It seems normal compared to this.” He took my hand and held it, so I didn’t feel the sting of the words.

“If I’m such a pain, why are you still hanging around?” I considered taking my hand back, but didn’t.

“Can’t help myself? God knows, I tried to stay away.” He squeezed my hand lightly.

“Jeez. You sure know how to make a girl feel good about herself.” Secretly, I was feeling pretty damn good. I knew he didn’t want, or need, complications in his life. But here I was.

“Bree—” he started.

“No. It’s okay. I think I understand. You weren’t looking for entanglements.” I did pull my hand back now, pretending I needed something in my bag.

“It complicates the job.” There was regret in his voice.

“I know. Do you know what your next assignment is going to be?” I dabbed the eye he couldn’t see and wiped my nose with a tissue.

“You.” A big smile formed on his face.

“Me?” I stopped rummaging in my bag and looked at him.

“Yeah. The mob is deep. Either Ledroit will run the family from prison, or one of her children will step up and take over. With or without her blessing. It’s bound to be messy.” He took my hand again.

“And you’re afraid that they’ll come after me?” I asked.

“It’s fairly certain they will.” Hambecker put his arm around my shoulder and pulled me to him but was stymied by the seat belt. He hit the release button so it retracted and he pulled me close. “Put the middle belt on,” he said.

“Great. You get to be my babysitter.” I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. On one hand, I liked that he was going to be around, on the other—well let’s just say I’ve never been good for babysitters. “I’m going to be a pain in the ass, you know.”

“I’m counting on there being some perks to make up for it.” He dropped a kiss on my head.

“Perks huh? I’ll see what I can do.” I liked the sound of perks.

“I’m counting on it. How’s your leg?” He squeezed my shoulder.

“Hurting a little less.”
Than a hot poker in the eye.

“You’re not just saying that so you can get laid, are you? What am I saying? Of course you’re just saying that. You couldn’t tell the truth to save your life.”

“You are not calling me a liar.” I was ready to do battle now. That was the trouble with Hambecker; he changed direction so quickly that it was hard to stay on my feet around him.

“No. I’m saying you are pathologically unable to tell the truth any time the truth interferes with what you want.” He kissed me on the cheek.

“I’m getting kind of mad at you.” I was trying to shrug his arm away, but it was impossible to get it to budge.

He grinned. “Good. Take your medicine and go back to sleep. I’m counting on that leg healing up really fast.”

“You’re impossible, you know that?” I smacked him on his thigh. Not very hard though. It didn’t even sting my hand.

“Just keeping you on your toes. Take your meds.” He nodded to my bag.

“I don’t need them.”
I really, really need them
.

“Don’t make me treat you like a baby, Bree. If you don’t take them in thirty minutes you’re going to be hurting so bad you can’t stand it. And it’ll be thirty minutes after that before the meds start to work.”

“Yeah, well I’m going to take them. But only because I’m tired of listening to you talk. You’re as bad as my older brother.” I dragged the pills from my bag and swallowed them.

***

I was getting used to waking up in bed with Hambecker. It took me a minute to remember I was at Meg’s house, and then the memory of my home, my dogs, caught up with me and my breath caught in my throat.

“Are you sick?” Hambecker was raspy with sleep.

“No. I’m okay. Reality just caught up with me.” I wiped my eyes. “I’d forgotten.”

He flexed his arm around me. “I’m sorry.”

“Me too.” I sniffed. “I can’t get over the feeling I could have done something different. I could have saved them.”

“Don’t do that to yourself. Grieve. Cry. Wail. Curse the Gods. But don’t make yourself responsible for what happened.”

“Easy for you to say…” I started.

“Nope. We’re done. Time to get up.” He sat up, threw the covers off and pushed my legs off the bed. “Sad I can understand. This useless guilt irritates me. You want me to tape some plastic wrap over your dressing so you can shower?”