The Negotiator (6 page)

Dave scanned the printouts, set down his plate, and wiped his hands. He moved from the couch to the floor; pushed the coffee table down another foot. He started laying out the reports by date in a semicircle around him. “Let’s see if we can track his movements, find out if Henry traveled.”

It was a good approach. Kate wished she had thought of it. She reached for the stack of pages Dave offered, then looked at him when she realized he wasn’t letting go.

“Add hard on herself to stubborn.” He smiled. “Would you relax and let others help? Piecing together puzzles is my full-time job.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry.”

He released the papers and frowned. “This case really shook you up, didn’t it?”

“I don’t like the ones that I dream about.”

“How bad?”

She shook her head, declining to answer. “Anything in particular I should be looking for?”

“The general pattern first; did he travel much, where to.”

Kate settled back in the chair and started to work. The quietness was broken only by the sound of pages turning. It was a comfortable silence. She looked up after a bit to watch Dave, focused on the task in front of him. He had been serious about coming over to help.

The phone rang. Dave looked up.

“The machine will get it; I’m screening calls.”

He nodded and resumed turning pages.

She heard her own voice end and the beep that followed it. “Hello, Kate. I taped the news tonight.”

Her hand curled the paper she held; she had heard that voice earlier in the evening. She took a deep breath, and the calm, detached front that hallmarked her work slid into place.
Give me a clue I can work with.

“Sounds like you have trouble coming your way. Soon it will be more than you can handle.”

The tape clicked off on an amused, deep laugh.

She forced herself to mark her place with a pen, set down the printouts, and not let that voice invading her home get to her. It went with her job. The courts had reversed the truth-in-sentencing law, and the number of inmates being released swelled daily. This sounded like another one determined to harass her.

“I can see why you screen calls.”

She could tell from Dave’s expression that he was concerned. Having someone else showing a protective streak put her in an uncomfortable position. “Once a month on average, someone I need to avoid finds the number.”

“That’s a very high incident rate.”

She bit her tongue not to reply it wasn’t his concern. He didn’t mean to step on a sore spot. She changed out the tape as she had done with the first one. She would keep screening calls. When she never answered, most callers stopped harassing her machine after a week. If this caller persisted, it would not be the first time she had requested a tap on her own phone line. “Most call just to show they can find the number,” she finally replied. “The persistent callers get traced and dealt with. If there’s an obvious threat, it bumps to my boss to decide how to handle it. Those are rare.”

“When did you last change your phone number?”

“Dave—”

He held up his hand. “Sorry, consider it unasked. But if you do want some suggestions someday, I could probably make a few. Protecting people is what I do for a living.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“The offer is appreciated, but another time, okay?” She ran her hand through her hair. “I think I will take something to kill this headache.” It was a retreat, but a needed one. She found the painkillers the doctor had prescribed that morning, knowing she needed something powerful enough to deal with the aching muscles as well as the headache.

Returning to the living room, she found she simply could not face another moment of work. She settled on the couch.

“Stretch out, get comfortable.”

She hesitated, then did as he suggested.

“Kate, why do you do it, your job I mean? You live with so much risk.”

He asked it without turning around, continuing to work, but she could tell it was not a throwaway question.

“I was nine when I decided that someone had to kick death in the teeth for the sake of justice.”

He glanced back at her. “That’s quite a descriptive phrase. You really decided to become a cop when you were nine?”

“Around then.”

“What happened?”

Kate hesitated. “It’s a long story, for another time.”

“Okay. Why become a negotiator?” She was relieved he didn’t pursue his previous question.

“It’s the center of the action, and I’ve got the patience and control necessary to do the job well.”

“I should have guessed that. You are good at the job, don’t get me wrong, but I wish you wouldn’t take quite so many risks doing it. When you came through those bank doors not wearing a vest, I was sure you were going to get shot. I was praying harder than I can remember doing in the recent past.”

He believed in God? She might not, but she respected people who did. At least they had hope, misplaced she thought, but there. She was always curious. “Do you think it helped?”

He turned around at that question, resting his elbows on his knees as he considered her. “Yes, I do. You don’t believe?”

“Does it seem logical to pray for God to stop a crisis when, if He existed, He should have never let it begin?”

He didn’t give her an immediate answer, and that had her intrigued.

“Interesting observation.”

“Since you believe, thank you for praying.”

“You’re welcome.” He turned back to the paperwork.

Kate didn’t raise an eyebrow, but she wanted to. He was letting her close the subject if she chose to without getting uptight about it. From her experience, that suggested three things: He read people well; he was very comfortable with what he believed; and he didn’t preach when he talked about religion.

To some people who said they believed, religion was a word; to others, it defined who they were. She had a feeling Dave was in that second group. To understand him, she would have to eventually understand his religion. The fact it bothered him that she didn’t believe was kind of nice. People that stood for something made the best friends.

She felt the need to offer a reassurance she rarely made. “Dave, the situation has to be pretty extreme for me to take the risk I did yesterday.”

He glanced back at her. “I’m glad to hear that. You’re not ready to die.”

“Because I don’t believe?” She spent the time on her job making small talk. She preferred to avoid it in friendships. And she didn’t mind talking about religion when it wasn’t going to get shoved down her throat.

He turned, and the concern in his eyes was very personal. “Yes.”

His look was patient. He wanted to understand. “It’s no secret why I don’t believe.” She shrugged, wondering if her answer would sound overly simplistic. “My job is to restore justice to an unjust situation. To stand between danger and innocent victims. If your God existed, my job should not.”

“He should prevent situations like Tuesday’s holdup.”

“Yes.” She could feel the painkiller kicking in. She braced her hand on his shoulder as she shifted to get a pillow behind her bruised shoulder.

“So where should His interference with free will end?”

“Graham and I debate that question occasionally, and I have a hard time accepting the answer that anything goes. If God is not big enough to figure out a way around free will, He’s pretty much left our fates up to chance. I see too much evil, Dave. I don’t want a God that lets that kind of destruction go on.” She stifled a yawn. She was too tired to have this discussion, as fascinating as it might be. Dave didn’t push when he talked about God, but it wasn’t like he was going to change her opinion. The pain now easing off, she tucked her hand under her chin.

“You’ve got a large family. Did your parents have large families, too?”

Another subject shift. He would make a good negotiator. Either that, or he read body language very well. “I grew up in an orphanage.” Whatever sympathy that word brought, it was easier to deal with than explaining the abuse that had taken her from her parents’ home at age nine.

“You’ve got three brothers and three sisters.”

She shook her head. “I was an only child.” She knew the confusion that answer brought. “Can you reach the picture in the silver frame?”

He picked it up from the end table.

“The O’Malleys. We sort of adopted each other. Legally changed our last names, became our own family.”

He studied the group photo. “I figured this was you hanging out with friends.”

“It is. We were friends long before we became family. Stephen, you’ve met. Marcus, who sent the flowers. Lisa, Rachel, Jennifer. Jack.” She looked at the picture and smiled. “We are constantly stepping in and out of each other’s lives. An O’Malley can always count on an O’Malley.”

“Sara and I are like that, too. I don’t know if I should say I’m sorry you lost your parents or that I envy you what you’ve found.”

“Both apply.”

“I would like to meet them.”

“Stick around and you will.”

He draped his arms across his knees. “We’ve known each other, what, about thirty-six hours?”

Uncertain as to why he asked, she nodded. “Yes.”

“That’s long enough. It takes me about twenty-four to make a friend. You’re stuck with me.”

She couldn’t stop the chuckle, then got caught by another yawn. “I think it’s time I threw you out and went to bed.”

“You do need some sleep.” He got to his feet and offered her a hand up.

She walked with him to the door. “Thanks for coming over. I enjoyed it.”

“So did I.” He stopped, one hand on the doorknob. “If you have a bad dream tonight, call me.”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“You’re as bad as Marcus. I’m not going to call you in the middle of the night.”

“Kate, I’m serious. If you need to talk, call. I won’t mind if you wake me up.”

This was a different Dave, the amusement gone, in its place real concern. She smiled hesitantly. “If I need to.”

He squeezed her hand. “Do.” He stepped out the door. “Good night, Kate.”

“Good night.”

She let the door close and turned the locks, leaning back against the wood. She had expected the emotions from yesterday would fade, not grow. She had seen gentleness in Dave’s eyes last night, seen kindness tonight. He was an action-oriented cop, yet she had seen him pull back on three occasions tonight rather than push over her: when the phone call came in, when the subject of religion came up, when he asked about the risks she took in her job. He was a hard man to get a handle on; he was certainly not what she was expecting. There was patience when he wanted to show it.

He hadn’t said anything about seeing her again. She wasn’t ready to set aside her rule of not dating a cop, but she hoped he did call again soon. Her life was certainly more interesting with him in it.

Four

T
he bank assault and its aftermath were playing again on television. “Is that her?” “Yes.”

There was silence in the room as the clip ran to completion. “I think you’re crazy to go after a cop.” It was a quiet assessment, already made before, and said more for reflection than for discussion.

“I want her father, but he’s dead. His two kids will have to do.”

“Just killing them would be easier. Certainly less complicated.”

“Not as sweet. I want to ruin them first.”

The man behind the desk clicked off the television set with the remote. “Understandable. But we’re going to have to wait a while longer than planned. They’ll be looking at Wilshire Construction as the source of that dynamite. That old man just messed up a year of planning.”

The man sprawled comfortably in the seat across from him smiled. “We want them looking at Wilshire Construction—this way they will already be suspicious. Rather than delay, we need to move up our timetable.”

“We can’t.”

“Getting cold feet?”

“Hardly. You want the two Emerson kids; I want your brother. I just don’t want to get caught.”

“Didn’t you say he’s got a flight to New York next week?”

“Yes.”

“So what’s the problem?”

“Is that her?”

Dave glanced up at his sister Sara’s question to see Kate’s picture on the television screen; the noon newscast had come back from commercial. He closed the newspaper he had been scanning. “Yes, that’s Kate.” He watched the reporter’s story.

Sitting on the couch in her husband’s study, Sara leaned forward to look closer at the image. “What’s she like?”

Dave searched to find the right word. “Intriguing.”

“Really?”

He understood the reason for her interest. “She’s not a believer, Sara,” he cautioned gently. Those words left a deep void inside; he felt like a prize of great value had been snatched away. He had left Kate’s house last night bitterly disappointed. He had never even considered that possibility, an indication of how strongly he had hoped the evening would be a success. As he had put together the hostess gift for Kate, he had been thinking of plans, possibilities, looking forward to getting to know her better. Those ideas had been stillborn with the discovery she was not a Christian. It didn’t change the things that had drawn him to her; it only complicated enormously what he could do about that interest.

He liked Kate. He had never even considered there would be such a problem. That fact surprised him, looking back. Faith was not something he normally took for granted.

His sister looked defeated for a moment, then smiled. “Well, at least you didn’t say she was married—lack of belief can change.”

Dave leaned back his head and roared with laughter. “You’re priceless, Sara.”

“I’m happily married.”

“I’ve noticed,” he replied dryly, “You keep hoping it becomes contagious.”

“Well, my best efforts are coming to naught.”

Because he loved her and it was the dream of her heart, he offered— “I’ll let you introduce me to another one of your friends.” He accepted the reality that with Kate, a relationship beyond a friendship was not likely, and he really did want to settle down. Sara still carried the guilt of having tied up so many years of his life with her security needs. He had been focused on finding the man stalking her, the man responsible for killing their sister, Kim. Having a relationship had been far down on his priorities. Now that Sara was safe, married, and blissfully happy, she was determined to see his situation change. Dave was willing to admit it had become one of his priorities. He wanted to share his life with someone.

“I think I would rather meet Kate.”

“Friendship evangelism takes time, Sara.”

“But she saved your life.”

He set aside his paper and sighed. “It’s not that simple. You know that.” He had thought about it a lot last night, worried about it, the fact Kate didn’t believe. She walked into situations where a guy had a bomb. It made him shudder. But after praying a long time, he had accepted the fact there was really very little he could do. With a guy, it was different. He could get close as a friend, understand the issues preventing a decision of faith, talk through them one by one. Friendship evangelism worked if given enough time.

He couldn’t do that with Kate. It was one thing to be friends with a woman, another to get close enough to influence her heart. One of them would likely end up with bruised emotions, and he had the gut feeling it would be him. The way she moved, the way she acted…and that voice of hers—that soft, captivating voice…he shook his head. Kate was trouble for him. The emotions she generated would not easily be contained to friendship.

She wouldn’t be an easy person to approach with the gospel, either. Her own words told him she already thought enough about the subject to have some deep reservations. To root out why, have the patience to convince her to reconsider, would be a difficult task, and there would be no guarantee of success.

Sara crossed over to take a seat on the armrest of his chair. “Maybe it won’t be simple. But you could use a good friend. Unlike my friends, she might be able to understand your job.”

Sara understood his job. She had lived under the security, lived in constant fear of a killer. The past had left her with a knowledge about good and evil that had destroyed her sense of innocence. Dave didn’t want that to happen to others, so he rarely talked about his job, rarely shared that part of his life. Part of it was security—what he couldn’t say—and part of it was his wall—the things he wouldn’t say. He wanted a life, and that couldn’t happen if work invaded conversations. He appreciated Sara’s concerns that it left him lonely, and she was right, but it also gave him a corner of his life that was normal, and he guarded that corner tenaciously.

The fact Kate would understand his job was sad, for it meant she had also lost, like Sara, that freedom not to know what evil was like. Kate lived with the knowledge like he did. It showed in her eyes. Cop’s eyes. Despite the humor, the voice, the charm, and the smile, at the back of her eyes was a reflection of what she had seen through the years. Black. Cold. Contained. Wary.

Dave sighed, accepting he was going to have to see Kate soon, if only to try and shake that image. He glanced at Sara and let himself smile. “I thought I was the one who looked out after you.”

“You did—magnificently. I think it’s time for me to return the favor.”

He locked his arms around her waist and tugged her into his lap, triggering a fit of giggles from her. “Listen, Squirt…”

“I thought I heard you two in here.”

Dave looked up as his brother-in-law entered the room. “Hi, Adam.”

“Dave.” Adam smiled and leaned down to kiss his wife, still trapped in Dave’s arms. “If you were planning to change before we leave, you’ve got eight minutes,” he mentioned to her, amused.

She scrambled back to her feet. “I’ll be ready in four.”

Dave watched her go, content in a way he had not been in ages. “She looks happy, Adam. Thanks.” There had been years he had wondered if this day would ever come for her.

“It’s mutual.” His friend took a seat on the couch, leaned back and stretched and grinned. “So—fill me in on this Kate I’ve been hearing about.”

Sara and Adam had so smoothly tag teamed him into talking about Kate that Dave was almost willing to speculate their ambush had been planned. He smiled as he cut across traffic to reach his car. The wind had picked up as the day progressed, but there were only small clouds to be blown across the sky; the hoped for rain had still not appeared. He was about to do something he might regret in the morning.

He had the preliminary bank report on Henry Lott’s mortgage with him. He had called Kate’s office to fax her a copy, but Franklin had said she had already left for the day. The report could wait until tomorrow. Dave knew that, but he had decided to seize the moment and see if Kate happened to be home.

As he drove toward Kate’s neighborhood, he tried to decide what he would say when he saw her. He wasn’t sure how he had left it last night after she said she didn’t believe. He thought he had handled it with tact, not shown his disappointment, but he wasn’t going to assume that fact; he couldn’t. He would soon know, maybe. Given the way Kate could control her voice and expression, clues to what she was thinking could be subtle at best if she decided to play it cool.

Dave ran his hand through his hair, admitting to himself he had no idea why he was doing this. To hear her voice again. Coax out another smile. He groaned at the realization he had just jumped again in his thoughts to something well beyond friendship and seriously considered abandoning this idea. He didn’t need this kind of emotional quicksand.

His jaw firmed. He would keep it friendly. Brief.

He liked her, really liked her; he would just have to start treating her like a cousin or something.

Right. That was easier said than done.

Dave turned onto her block and slammed on his brakes.

There were three squad cars, lights flashing, parked at an angle in front her building.

That call.
Kate was in trouble.

He should never have let her blow off that threatening phone call. He had known it wasn’t something to ignore, and he had backed off when she got annoyed with him. He didn’t do that! Evaluating threats, protecting people was his job. Someone’s feelings had to be secondary to her safety, and he had overruled that basic mandate because he wanted to stay in her good graces. If Kate was hurt…

Dave pulled in behind a squad car, grabbed his keys, and hit the pavement at a run. Manning was coming down the building’s front steps. “What happened?” Dave demanded.

“Kate got a package.”

“Inside her apartment?”

Manning shook his head. “Leaning against the front door.”

“Where is she?”

“Inside. We’re just wrapping up.”

Dave stepped past the lab technician dusting the front door. There was barely room to maneuver in the crowded apartment. Dave knew from the normal tones of voice that the immediate crisis was past, but his heart still pounded. Graham, talking to one of the other officers, spotted him, and waved him back into the living room.

Kate was on the other side of the room. Everything else going on slid into the background.

She looked furious.

That realization stunned him. He had been braced for hurt; prepared, if she wasn’t hurt, to see rigid control hiding her thoughts. He hadn’t antici-pated seeing emotions full blown. Halfway across the room he could feel the emotions shimmering off of her. She sizzled. With her arms crossed, attention on her boss, she paced in three feet of open real estate like a caged tiger.

She hadn’t seen him yet, and he was momentarily glad for that.

Stephen came up behind him, carrying a cup of hot coffee.

“There was a package delivered, left leaning against her front door,” Stephen told him quietly. “We had gone to dinner at the Italian place around the corner; I walked her home. The florist box was leaning against the door. I reached for it, and Kate slammed me onto my back by instinct, nearly gave me a concussion.”

“What was in it?”

“A black rose. Her friend is back.”

Kate looked over and saw him before he could follow up on Stephen’s last comment. Dave watched her expression change, harden, then clear. He buried a sigh. So much for wondering how she would react to seeing him here.

He moved past Graham to join her. “Kate.”

“Dave.” She didn’t look pleased to see him, but he tried not to take it personally. This place had become Grand Central Station, a fact that had to be frustrating for her. She needed some space. As a cop, that would be even more true than for someone else. For the same reason she would sit in a restaurant with her back to the wall to keep people in front of her, she would be looking for space around her now.

Her boss closed his notebook. “The lab will put a rush on this. We should hear from the Indiana PD in a couple hours, find out if your friend has indeed managed to slip out of his supervised release. In the meantime, patrols are shifted for the night.”

“He won’t be back tonight. His MO looks the same, down to the ribbon used on the gift.”

“Assuming it’s him,” Jim replied. “We should know something by midnight anyway.” He lightly squeezed her shoulder. “At least this time it wasn’t a gift-wrapped snake.”

Kate chuckled softly. “Hey, I’ve got first class admirers.”

It took about fifteen minutes for the cops and technicians to finish work, pack up their cases. Dave stayed out of their way, watching Stephen and Kate. Stephen was good with her, able to distract her. Or rather she let him distract her, Dave amended. The apartment door closed, leaving just the three of them.

Kate was looking around her apartment, looking unexpectedly lost. Dave crossed the room and placed his hand on her shoulder, felt the tremor. She was still so angry she was quivering.

“Go get your keys. We’ll take a walk,” he said calmly.

“It’s going to rain.”

“The forecast was wrong, and even if it did rain, it would just cool off that temper.” He chuckled at the look she shot him. “Don’t argue, Kate; you’ll regret it in the morning.” He turned her toward the bedroom. “Better yet, find a hat. It’s windy.”