“If it’s any consolation,” he added, “I ain’t exactly one of her favorite people either.”
“Yeah, I know.”
He wasn’t lying. He had gone toe to toe with her for the sole purpose of defending me and had done serious harm to his career in the process. While my friend was still a homicide detective, Albright had seen to it that he was no longer allowed to work as a member of the Major Case Squad as long as she was in command. That serious blow to his advancement was yet another thing I held myself responsible for, even if he didn’t.
“So, I don’t want to sound crass,” I said. “But what’s so important about this particular case that she feels like she needs to get her fingers in it?”
“Nice try,” he returned. “But it ain’t funny.”
I shook my head and looked back at him with a puzzled expression. “What are you talking about?”
“C’mon, Row,” he chided.
“No, really.”
He arched an eyebrow then cocked his head to the side, squinting while looking at me hard. “You aren’t friggin’ serious are you?”
“Serious about what?” An audible note of annoyance crept into my question.
“Do you have any clue at all what you just witnessed?” he asked.
“I’m guessing a kidnapping.”
“Yeah, and?”
“And what?” I asked, growing more impatient.
He shook his head and gave me an incredulous look. “Don’t you ever watch TV?”
“Sometimes. So what?”
“You watch the news, right?”
“Ben, will you just spit it out?” I demanded.
“You’re gonna sit there and tell me you didn’t recognize the woman who was grabbed?” he asked.
I flashed on a quick memory of the blonde victim and remembered having had a passing thought that I should know her.
I shook my head and shrugged. “Not really. She looked a little familiar, but other than that…”
“She’s all over the news,” my friend returned, shaking his head as well. “The Gateway Club Telethon, all kinds of charity events… You know, anything with a cause and a donation jar.”
“I’m sorry, Ben,” I barked the words. “But I still don’t know who she is. Now, would you please quit trying to make me feel stupid, and just clue me in?”
“Jeezus, Rowan,” he blurted, still shaking his head. “That was Brittany Larson.”
I looked back at him, stunned as the name sunk in, and my brain made the connection. “You mean…”
“Yeah, I mean Brittany freakin’ Larson,” he replied. “The goddammed mayor’s daughter.”
CHAPTER 6:
Ben was busy going over the turn of events with some other detectives when Lieutenant Barbara Albright arrived. She strode purposefully out of the elevator, headed straight for the door of the enclosure and whipped the door open with a swift yank.
Her low-heeled pumps were clacking out a determined cadence across the concrete decking of the parking lot as she started for the opposite end of the structure. I almost wish I’d had a camera on hand to catch the look on her face when she glanced to the side and saw me sitting on the stairs.
She stopped dead in her tracks, staring at me as her lips drew into a thin frown. After a brief pause, she unbuttoned her jacket and marched toward the stairs, coming to a halt in front of me and placing her hands on her hips.
“Would you mind explaining just exactly what it is that you are doing here, Gant?” She spat the words more as a demand than as a simple question.
She was slight but still altogether imposing just given her attitude. Her appearance placed her somewhere in her mid fifties even with her shoulder length hair having turned prematurely white. She was dressed in a dark grey pantsuit that looked like it came from an upscale department store. Felicity probably could have taken one look and spouted off the name of the designer, but as for me, well, all I knew was that it looked like money was involved.
Her hands, strategically placed to reveal more than just a glimpse of her sidearm, now pushed back the folds of the double-breasted jacket. I’m sure it was an intimidation tactic, probably something learned by all cops, but I had been around this sort of thing far too much. The sight of a gun on someone’s hip was old hat to me.
As in my past dealings with her, she was coming across as the mother that every kid on the block was afraid of, and she wasn’t planning to do anything to change that opinion. If nothing else, I would say that she was trying to bolster it.
As usual, the gold cross was suspended from a chain around her neck, obvious against the white background provided by her blouse. The breast pocket of her jacket held her badge case, shield flipped outward and prominently on display.
“It’s really a simple matter of being in the wrong place at the wrong time, Lieutenant,” I answered with forced civility as I rose to my feet.
I was mutely beating back my desire to launch into a string of unpleasantries aimed directly at her. I knew such an act would bring me nothing but trouble, but I was having a hard time explaining that to my subconscious mind.
“Oh, I’m sure that it is,” she remarked sarcastically. “Go on. Tell me.”
“Lunch,” I replied.
“Lunch?” she repeated.
“Yes,” I returned, pointing over her shoulder at a group of officers near the actual scene of the abduction; in particular, at Ben’s back. “Feel free to ask Detective Storm over there. We were going to lunch and just happened to be waiting for the elevator when it all happened.”
“Storm is here, too?” she barked, turning to look in the direction I indicated.
“Yes, as a matter of fact…”
Her hand came up to cut me off as she spoke, “You wait right here.”
“Sure,” I answered. “I’ve got no place else to be.”
I don’t know if she heard me or not because she was already stalking away toward Ben. While I couldn’t see her face, I had the distinct impression she was no happier to see him than she had been me.
“That was pleasant,” Ben muttered the sarcastic remark as he cranked the steering wheel of his van and backed it out of the parking space.
I didn’t wait for the follow-up I knew he was going to utter, “Don’t say ‘like a root canal’, Ben.”
“How’d you know I was gonna say that?”
“Experience,” I replied.
“Hmmph,” he grunted. “So what’d she say to you?”
“She demanded to know why I was here, so I referred her to you.”
“Thanks a lot,” he told me with no sincerity whatsoever.
“What about you?” I asked. “From where I was, it looked like she was having a meltdown.”
“Yeah, pretty much,” he answered. “She was just her normal pissy self up ‘til she found out I discharged a coupl’a rounds into the vehicle. That’s when she lost it.”
“What did she expect you to do?”
“Hell, I dunno.” He shrugged then cranked the steering wheel to guide us into the downward exit spiral. “Throw myself in front of the fuckin’ car I guess.”
“You pretty much did,” I observed.
