The Negotiator (22 page)

“Yes.”

“It’s going to get rough.”

“I’ve dealt with worse. Kate, look at me.”

She reluctantly turned her head.

“It’s okay to explode. You’re worrying me.”

Kate fought back the desire to cry. “I can’t change any of this.”

“No. But you’re giving up. I can see it happening.”

She reached over to squeeze his hand, hearing how badly he wanted to help her; she deeply appreciated that fact. “I’m temporarily retreating, Dave. Don’t worry. I’ll find my sea legs again. I just
hate
having my name plastered all over the news.” She didn’t want to talk about it anymore, didn’t want to
think
about it. Tony Emerson Jr. was going to destroy her life before this was over. She was surprised Dave was not backing away from her; she didn’t have years of experience with him to generate the kind of loyalty he was showing to her.

She entwined her fingers with his. “They are going to put me on administrative leave, move me out of this job, something,” she said quietly, admitting her biggest fear. “The pressure created by the media attention will demand it.”

“I’ve met your boss. There is no way Jim will let that happen.”

“He’ll try to protect me. It may be taken out of his hands.”

Dave squeezed her hand. “If the worst case happens, and they do? How are you going to cope?”

Kate closed her eyes, relieved he wasn’t trying to pretend it couldn’t happen. “I’ve endured worse.”

“The O’Malleys will be there for you. I’ll be here, too.”

“I appreciate that.”

Dave hesitated. “You should have more than your job at the center of your life, Kate. Put God in the center. He won’t shift even if everything else gets taken away.”

Dave, if your God were there, if He cared, why is He letting my life be shaken apart?
She was wrestling to understand how what she had read in Luke fit with what was going on, but she wasn’t ready to talk about it. She certainly wasn’t ready to believe. She bit her lip, not wanting to be rude but knowing she couldn’t deal with this subject tonight. She looked over at him, hoping he would understand. “Change the subject, Dave? It’s not that I want to knock what you believe, but your God is already supposed to be in the center of this, and I don’t like what I see. I’m just not up to a discussion about it tonight.” She saw him pull back as if slapped, his expression showing his hurt before it went carefully neutral. She tightened her hand to apologize even as he released her hand.

“Sure. Better yet, I’d better go check security on the grounds for the night.” He got to his feet, his voice tight. “I’ll be a few minutes.”

Kate watched him walk away, then raised her hand and squeezed the bridge of her nose, wanting desperately to throw something, anything, for being such a jerk. She knew how important the subject of religion was to Dave. It wasn’t like she hadn’t been thinking about what she had read in the book of Luke during the quiet moments of the last two days. She owed him the freedom to mention the subject without having her bite his head off. He’d been listening to all her problems since this disaster began, had been trying to help, and she’d just shown him she didn’t have room for his priorities.

There were days she was a fool.

She might as well have never gone to bed. Kate lay staring at the ceiling, watching the moonlight paint shadows around the room. The depression was heavy.

Dave was a nice guy, and instead of being able to have something with him, she was in a situation where they were both getting hurt. She should have stayed with Stephen and not come back here despite the media risk and the threat it would mean to be out in the open. She didn’t want to look like a coward, but she didn’t have the strength to deal with this. Dave deserved better, and she’d managed knowingly to hurt him this afternoon.

She was running, mentally, emotionally. She just didn’t want to deal with the past, and every time he got close, she felt it clawing back at her. The survival instinct of her childhood was back center stage—run away before she got hurt.

She rubbed her hand across her face, looked again at the clock. Two minutes had passed since she had last looked. At this rate she was going to count the seconds until dawn.

Wondering if insomnia was going to be a permanent reality, she rose and quietly dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt. It would help to get out of the closed four walls. The night looked quiet and calm; she might as well sit outside and enjoy the stars.

She turned off the alarm as Dave had shown her and descended the stairs. Two steps from the bottom, the world around her erupted. The lights snapped on, a piercing alarm sounded.

Dave was at the top of the stairs, breathing hard, before she had oriented herself in the confusion. “I didn’t set it off, I swear.”

He hurried down the stairs past her, pulling on his shirt. He silenced the audible alarm on the pad by the front door. “Grab your phone and get back upstairs. There’s a second sidearm in the safe in my room. I left it open.” He was already moving to the back of the house, keying the radio he carried. “Ben, what’s on the video?”

She nodded and bolted back upstairs. She hadn’t set it off, she knew she hadn’t.

The picture over his dresser had been set with a hinge and was moved to the side, leaving visible an open safe. She reached for the Glock inside and fitted a clip. She felt marginally safer just carrying the weapon although it came with a sense of dread for the possibility of ever having to use it. A reporter? Please let it be something innocent. She moved to her bedroom, scanned the front grounds and saw nothing moving.

She moved downstairs to rejoin Dave. This was a big estate; even with one other agent stationed at the guardhouse, Dave would need the help doing the search.

The sliding glass doors to the back were open an inch. She stepped outside. “Dave?”

“Here, Kate.” He was crossing the grounds to the south of the rose gardens. She moved to join him.

“You two can relax. I’ve got the culprit,” Ben radioed. “Our prowler is back, Dave.”

Dave visibly relaxed. He flipped on his flashlight and directed her toward his partner coming around the house.

“Who?” Kate asked, confused.

“Marvel. We thought he had found a new home; it’s been a couple months since he last put in an appearance. But I should have planned for him.”

Ben was carrying a fat, yellow tabby.

“He’s named Marvel because it’s such a marvel he’s still alive. He must be the dumbest cat in the city,” Dave remarked, smiling. “For some reason he likes to warm himself on top of one of the sensor posts. He has to climb a tree to get up there and dangle himself in the air to drop down on the camera perch, but he keeps doing it. The only thing we can figure is it’s warm and it feels good on his old bones.” Dave took the hissing cat from Ben and gave him a good-natured rub behind the ears. “You just like to cause us all kinds of trouble, don’t you?”

“I’ll reset the grid,” Ben said, slipping his radio back on his belt.

“Thanks, Ben. And you might as well kill the camera feeds, just leave the infrared hot for the night. I’m sure he’ll be back to his old habits as soon as we set him down.”

“Will do.”

Dave glanced speculatively at Kate. “Want to carry him? He’s your typical tomcat. Bad mannered. Likes to eat.”

She laughed softly, well able to see the two of them had nevertheless reached an understanding. She bet the cat set off the security alarm just so he would guarantee he got a meal out of the deal. “Sure, give him here.”

She let out a small huff as the cat became hers to hold. “This isn’t a cat; it’s a small beast covered in fur.”

“It would be nice if he got too fat to climb that tree.”

“You could move the camera you know.”

“He’d just get more creative.”

She rubbed the cat’s ears, ignoring the rumble. She somehow figured it was as close to a purr as this cat could get. “What are we going to offer him to eat?”

“There’s some grilled fish left.”

“That sounds like a four-star feast.”

“He’ll have it on the back patio. I made the mistake of letting him inside once. A house cat Marvel is not.”

Already becoming attached to the heavy cat in her arms, she found the idea amusing. “Well, while you fix him some baked fish for his delight, fix me a milkshake, and Marvel and I will share some dessert.”

“Deal. Now hand me that Glock. I’m more comfortable without my guests being armed.”

“Gladly.” She handed it over, and he removed the clip.

They walked back to the back patio. The earlier depression was gone, and in its place were a few moments on the back patio entertaining a cat with an attitude.

She fell in love.

When Dave brought out the dish with fish, the cat attacked it.

Dave handed her a tall glass. She had learned early on that milkshakes were one of his specialties. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure.” He settled on the chair beside her with a tall glass of his own. “Greedy little devil.”

“He’s hungry.”

“Somehow I think he’s always hungry.”

When the bowl was empty, Kate filled it with a little of the milkshake. Marvel wasn’t sure what to think about it, was tentative about getting his nose close to it, then began to cautiously lick it.

She was surprised when the cat stepped back from the dish and hissed.

“What?”

“He’s got an ice cream headache,” Dave explained.

“Oh, you poor darling.” She felt horrible. She scooped the cat up to rub its head while Dave laughed.

“The cat will live. I promise you.”

“You could have warned me.”

“Why? You would not have given him the ice cream, and he loves it.”

She shot Dave a skeptical look, but the cat was trying to get out of her hands. She let him, and he returned to the dish, showing a little more caution this time.

“What were you doing up when the alarm went off?”

She had hoped to avoid the question. “I just couldn’t sleep.”

“Anything you want to talk about?”

“No.”

He was quiet for a moment. “Fair enough. We’re taking tomorrow off.”

“What?”

“We’re taking a break. No case files, no notes, no interviews. We both need a break.”

She thought about it. The idea felt wonderful. Maybe she’d be able to sleep again. “Deal.” The cat finished licking the bowl clean and walked, tail swishing, over to the next empty chair, leaped up, and promptly began to groom his coat, pausing occasionally to stare at them.

“Think he’ll stick around?”

“Probably.”

“That would be nice.”

Dave winced as the cat jumped across into his lap, dug in his claws, and tried to get near the tall glass he held. “It depends on your perspective.”

She laughed.

“If he sticks, he’s yours.”

“Marcus gave me a dog with an attitude; you’re giving me a beat-up tomcat. Should I see a pattern in this?”

“Absolutely.” He scooped the cat from his lap and held him out. “Marvel, if you’re smart, you’ll be nice to her. She’s the one who thinks you’re adorable.”

Kate had to hold him still while he thought about bolting, then he malevolently stretched out across her lap.

“Looks like you’ve got a cat.”

Kate looked over, hearing the satisfaction in Dave’s voice. “And here I don’t have anything to give you,” she said tongue in cheek.

“Just make very sure it’s something that doesn’t breathe, okay?”

“Come on, Kate, the day is wasting,” Dave called from downstairs.

She hurried to get her hair brushed. “I’m coming. Hold on.”

He had gone to church on his own, leaving her to sleep in, and she was grateful in a way that he had backed off what had been such a painful collision of values the day before. He’d come home, brought lunch with him, and announced they were going out for the day. He’d proceeded to inform her there was a motorcycle in back that qualified as his pride and joy, and she had ten minutes to get ready to go.

She’d scrambled. She loved the idea. She grabbed her leather jacket, knowing regardless of the temperature she would need the protection. She trusted Dave; she didn’t trust the other drivers. She joined him downstairs.

“Where are we going?”

“Wisconsin, a quiet out-of-the-way lake. And if you’re really good, I’ll even bring you home.”

She wrinkled her nose at him. “Where’s this second helmet you said you had?”

He handed it over. “It’s Sara’s, so it should fit you.”

She tried it on, slipped down the visor, and glanced in the hallway mirror. “I look dangerous.”

“Anonymous at least. Come on. Let’s hit the road before traffic flowing downtown to the Cubs game picks up.”

He had brought the bike around to the front of the house, and it was obvious it was something he took considerable pride in—the motorcycle gleamed. He tucked water bottles in the carrying case.

“You’ve ridden before?”

“Jack has a bike.” She saw his expression and grinned. “My brother,” she pointed out. “I ride with him frequently.”

“Just remember to sit straight, and let me be the one to shift my weight in a turn.”

She slid on the bike and adjusted the footrests to a comfortable distance. “Drive. I want some wind in my face.”

Dave slid onto the seat and kicked the ignition.

Two hours later, tired, content, and smiling, she slid off the bike at a gas and grocery corner store miles into Wisconsin.

“Enjoying yourself?”

“Immensely.” She took off her jacket and draped it over the seat, grateful for the chance to enjoy the breeze. “How far is the lake?”

“Five minutes. I figured if we get ice cream here, there’s a chance it won’t melt until we get there.”

“I’ll get it. What do you want?”

He handed her a twenty. “Whatever you’re having.”

Kate nodded and headed for the store. She felt the attention that came her way from others at the store, the kind of open curiosity natural between travelers in a new environment. She looked like a casual biker. It created a reaction she didn’t normally get. When people looked twice, it was typically because she was a cop, not because they were quietly wondering why she and Dave traveled by motorcycle rather than car.