Authors: Christine Wenger
"I think so, but I need time."
"We don't have time."
Kate tried different combinations to get into the computer. First she tried the obvious no-brainer passwords and code words: 1-2-3-4-A-B-C-D.
Her fingers flew.
"How come it doesn't seem to bother you?" She typed in
4-3-2-1-C-O-P-S.
"What?"
"Your house turning into a handful of ashes." She typed
1-2-3-4-G-U-N-S.
"That house didn't mean anything to me." Mack stated flatly. "I thought you were good at this computer stuff?"
"I
am
good at computer stuff, but cripes, Mack, this is a cop computer. Wouldn't you expect it to have good security? I'm surprised it didn't lock me out yet."
He didn't answer, but paced back and forth, glancing up at the door in the back of the room, as she furiously typed.
"I'm in!" She was thrilled to be able to finally help Mack. "Sheesh! You think you cops would have more imagination than
6-7-8-9-C-O-P-S."
"I'm glad we don't."
He positioned himself over her left shoulder, watching intently. She could feel the warmth radiating from him. It was hard to concentrate on her task when he was that close to her and she could hear his steady breathing over the thumping of her heart. The smell of smoke lingering on Mack was a constant reminder of what almost happened to him.
Kate concentrated on checking the various drives and directories, desperately wanting to help him.
"How about "CONFDRUGS"? I suppose that means confiscated drugs. There are two sub-directories under that: invent and dest. That's probably–."
"Inventory and destruction. Perfect!” Mack said. “Let me see them both."
"Oh, shoot. I'm going to jail."
"Shhh!" Mack held his finger over his lips. "Someone's coming. We gotta get out of here."
Quickly, Mack reached in front of her and shut the computer off. Then his fingers closed around hers and he yanked her up from the chair. Blindly, she followed behind him, as fast as her scrapes and bruises would allow.
At the top of the stairs, he opened the door a crack and looked right and left, then pushed Kate out ahead of him. "Get in your car and get out of here," he whispered.
"I'm not going without you. You're still in my program."
"Kate, get in your car and get the hell out of here," he repeated through gritted teeth.
She stood her ground. "Not without you."
"Hey, who's there?" a deep voice shouted from below.
Mack let the door close behind him. "Get out of here, Kate. Now! And don't tell anyone that I'm alive. I need to buy some time. Promise me." Mack looked torn between staying with her and taking off at a dead run. He grabbed her hands, and looked deep into her eyes. "Promise me, Kate. Please."
She couldn't deny him that. "I promise. But you go first. I'll try a diversion. Meet me at my office above Clancy's Pizza."
"Kate, I don't want you near me."
Kate's heart sank. She was just his warden, nothing else. Funny, she thought she’d meant something more to him. "Well, you’re stuck with me."
He didn't argue. He was gone.
"Who's there?" shouted someone behind her.
"Oh...sorry..." She read the gold name tag on his chest, "Officer Gilmartin. I'm Kate. Kate Kingston. I was just looking for a place to clean up a bit, if you wouldn't mind. I fell." She pointed to the dried trails of blood on her legs and elbows, but he didn't look. His eyes skimmed the area instead. Looking for someone. Mack?
"No one is with me. I'm alone." Well, that wasn't a lie. Not now. "I don't know if you've heard or not, but Sergeant Mackowitz's house burned down. They are going to—" She swallowed hard, remembering the panic she felt when she thought that Mack was dead. "They are looking for his body. I was wondering if you have any news."
"Umm...no," he mumbled. "No news yet."
#
Where is he?
Kate paced her office and checked her watch. It was ten-thirty at night. She had left Mack at ten-thirty this morning.
What had he been doing these past twelve hours?
She had told him to meet her at her office, but it looked like he wasn't going to show.
The VV-98 logged the fact that the ankle monitor had been cut off at precisely nine fourteen this morning. About the same time his house blew up.
Where was he?
The somber reporter on the evening news said that Sergeant John Mackowitz was believed to have perished in a fire at his residence, but investigators were still uncertain. The reporter carried on about Mack's recent arrest for several charges of selling drugs and mentioned Tom Murray being shot and in critical condition. Then he hinted that Mack might have tried to commit suicide by setting his house on fire.
Kate clicked off the TV. That was enough of that.
She closed her eyes for a while and stretched out on her couch. Her mind was reeling, and she was tired and achy from the fall. It was a mistake promising Mack that she wouldn't tell that he was still alive.
"I need to buy some time," he had said.
Well, he had all the time in the world now. He was out there without monitoring. He had cut off another anklet, making it worthless, and hundreds of dollars of her equipment had gone up in smoke.
But it was all covered by insurance and would be easy to replace.
Mack's life was impossible to replace.
Kate remembered the confiscated drugs directory she found on the cop computer–inventory and destruction. What did he suspect?
She thought she should at least call Pete Nash and let him know that Mack was alive. But she'd promised she wouldn't tell anyone. Surely, he didn't mean Pete.
For heaven's sake, where was Mack?
#
Mack made sure no one followed him before he picked the lock on Kate's office door. He was dead tired, needed a shower, and hoped she wouldn't mind putting him up.
They still thought he was dead, and he wasn't going to let them find out any different. Let them figure it out themselves. It wouldn't take long before they did, before he'd have to beat feet.
They
, who?
He opened the door and found himself in a little kitchenette. Closing and locking the door behind him, he noticed the flicker of the TV in the adjacent room.
"Kate?" he said quietly, before he saw that she was asleep on the couch. His chest tightened as he looked at her. He couldn't resist kneeling down beside her and touching her cheek, running his fingers through her soft hair.
He'd always admired her ambition. How she always put her heart and soul into whatever she took on.
Even though it wasn’t true, he liked to tease her about how she’d shot a cow on the range. The truth was that she hunkered down and qualified, and he was proud of her. He respected her drive, her perseverance.
But he didn't want to put her in danger.
Regretfully, he decided to leave. He didn't know why he came to Kate’s anyway. Maybe it was because she had asked him to. Maybe because he’d had nowhere else to go. Maybe it was because he simply wanted to be with her.
Maybe he'd just take a shower and get the smoke and crud off him and then hit the road. He wanted to try the computer again, now that he knew the password and file names.
Since he'd left Kate that morning, Mack had walked to Rose Lake, debating whether or not to tell his parents he was alive. He was sure that their house was being watched. Maybe not. The cops still thought he was dead.
He had found his father at the boat house.
“Dad?”
“Johnny! Thank God you’re alive!” His father'd hugged the stuffing out of him. “We were so worried. So damn worried. Thank God.”
“I’m fine.”
“Johnny, what’s going on?”
“I don’t know yet, but I’ll get to the bottom of it.”
“You’re a good cop, son. We know you are. You’d never do what they said you did.”
His father’s eyes were red-rimmed and puffy. He’d been crying. Over him?
“Thanks for that, Pop. I’ve waited a long time to hear you say that.”
“I’ve been wrong. And when I thought you were dead and couldn’t tell you that...well...I...I...”
Mack could tell that his father’s apology was taking a toll on him. He hugged the old man. “We’ll talk later. I have to go. Tell Mom that I love her. And Pop, I have to buy some time. Don’t tell anyone that you’ve seen me.”
“Okay. And you take care of yourself. Hear me?”
“I will.”
He had disappeared into the pine trees. Thankful that he’d talked to his father, Mack felt lighter and happier than he had in a long time.
But he hadn't had time to dwell on his father’s apology. He'd hurried over to the Gibson's garage and borrowed a bicycle. The Gibsons were in Florida, and Freddie wouldn't be using it for a while.
Mack had biked to the Heliport hoping to check out the drug storage locker, but there was no way. There were too many cops and civilians around participating in some kind of training with the K-9 dogs.
So that was a waste of time. He had to go back to the Heliport the first chance he got. He needed to check the storage bins.
But first, he needed some clean clothes and a shower.
Kate did have a shower here, didn't she?
Mack walked down the hall and found the shower. He also found an apartment size washer and dryer. He was tempted to toss his clothes in and wash them.
Tempting. Very tempting.
Maybe he could crash on Kate's floor for the night, and figure out what he should do next.
Not being able to resist the temptation, he shed his smoky clothes and got them washing in Kate’s washer. He turned the shower on and let the water get nice and hot before he jumped in. It felt good. Her soap was purple and smelled like lilacs. Her shampoo smelled like peaches.
He closed his eyes as he lathered up, thinking again of Kate's reaction to him being alive. If he didn't know better, he would have thought that she cared for him.
When he opened his eyes, he found himself staring down the barrel of a Glock .45.
"Well, look who's here–the un-dead Sergeant Mackowitz." Her eyes traveled his length once, then again. She didn’t blush this time, but stood her ground.
He grabbed for the shower curtain and held it in front of him. "Um...you want to put that gun away?"
She smiled. "Maybe. Maybe not."
He could swear that Kate was flirting with him.
"Is it loaded?"
She just smiled.
"Don't play with guns, Kate. Didn't I tell you that in training?"
"I'll put the gun down when you drop that shower curtain."
He couldn't believe what he heard and couldn't believe the glint of desire in her eyes. "Um...Kate...this isn't such a good idea. Don't start what you don't want to finish."
She lowered the gun, locked it, and put it on the counter. When she turned back to him, he saw that her face was flushed. "Maybe I want to finish it. It's not every day I see a naked man in the shower." She laughed. "Well, maybe every-other-day."
This time he was ready for her. The second that he saw the silver flash of handcuffs, he grabbed her wrists and pulled her into the shower with him.
She sputtered and shrieked, but it was too late. He had handcuffed her wrists behind her back.
"How dare you! Get them off me, Mack!"
He laughed.
"I'll kill you!"
"You'll have to stand in line."
She stopped sputtering when she noticed that he had her pinned against the ceramic wall. She stopped breathing when she noticed his growing erection.
"John?" She spoke very softly.
"Kate?" He didn't have to ask. He knew she wanted him to kiss her. And he had every intention of obliging. He had thought about this moment for a long time, and had fought it. But this time she was doing the asking and he was more than ready to give her what she wanted.
He didn't want to take it slow. His lips met hers, and he was lost. He pulled her body against his, and as the shower rained down on them, he tasted her lips, then her mouth.
She trembled and so did he. He grew bigger and harder and knew she could feel him pressing against her. He could see the wanting in her eyes, now a deep, rich emerald green.
"I-I want to touch you, John."
He wanted the same thing. "Where's the key to these damn things?" he mumbled, the words lost in her mouth.
"Pocketbook," she breathed. "I think."
"Damn."
"I know."
He shut the shower off, tied a towel around his waist, and then helped Kate out as he went to find her purse.
"It's on the floor on the side of the VV-98."
The cold air of her office sobered him up. How stupid of him. He had almost made love to Kate, right there in the shower.
He couldn't do that. It wasn't the right time. She deserved better than a hunted, haunted cop. She was right, he was "un-dead", but that didn't make him feel alive.
The moment was over. He could see it in her eyes when he returned to the bathroom with her purse. He knew it in his heart.
"My keys are in the front pocket. Go ahead, Mack. I can't do it."
She was back to addressing him as Mack.
He loved it when she called him by his given name. Twice now, she called him John in the heat of passion. And he knew that if he reined himself in and backed off like he should, he wouldn't hear her call him John again.
He unlocked the cuffs and slipped them off her wrists. “Kate, I don’t think that we should, as much as I’d like to. But–”
“I know.”
#
Mack sat across from Kate. He wore a red satin half-slip and a blue silk Chinese robe which didn't come close to wrapping around him.
He bent over, resting his elbows on his thighs, and they both heard a rip. So much for the Chinese robe.
"Sorry," he said sheepishly. "It was a little tight in the shoulders. I'll buy you another."
His knees were wide apart and the slip stretched taught.
"Mack, if you are going to wear a slip, you'll need to keep your knees together."
Especially when you're not wearing underwear.
He sat back in the chair, then swung an ankle up and rested it on his knee.