'Mr. Payne. You okay?'
Good question, Payne thought. The cop had just seen a burglar flee the office. Maybe Mr. Payne was lying in a pool of blood. The cop wanted to rescue him; then he'd arrest him.
'You hurt?'
The voice more distant. Good. The cop must have passed the rest room and turned the corner. He'd be near the desk by now, looking around, moving slowly. Payne opened the door a crack, sneaked his hand toward the wall, and flicked off the light switch. The room went black.
'Hey! Who's there?' The cop yelling, fumbling for his flashlight.
Payne dashed into the corridor, toppling the water cooler behind him. The glass jar shattered, and a flood splashed his ankles as he raced out the back door. He heard the cop shout 'Sh-it' as he slipped and fell.
Payne jumped into his Lexus and jammed the key into the ignition. He tore out of the parking lot, rounded a corner, and headed for Van Nuys Boulevard. In less than a minute he was at the corner of Tiara and Van Nuys. But where was the kid?
Probably ran off.
Looking for a pocket to pick.
Good story, though, searching for his mother. With proper schooling, the kid could make a helluva con man. Or even a lawyer.
Then Payne spotted him on the sidewalk. Walking half a step behind a family of four. Blending in, perfectly inconspicuous. Payne pulled to the curb. Before he came to a stop, the kid ran for the car and hopped into the passenger seat. Payne burned rubber pulling out, heading for the anonymity of the 101 freeway.
'My name's Tino, Mr. Payne,' the boy said.
'Call me Jimmy.'
Tino rapped knuckles with him. 'Him-my,' he said, 'we make a good team.'
'Yeah, great.'
'Where's my other hundred?'
Payne reached into his pocket and gave the kid his money.
'Thanks, vato.'
Before Payne could say he wasn't the kid's buddy, his cell phone rang. Sharon's number in the window.
'Rigney just called,' she said. 'Dammit, Jimmy, you're in big trouble.'
'That's why I need you.'
'For what?'
'That road trip I was talking about.'
'No, Jimmy.'
'Leaving tonight, and I need your help.'
'No!'
'I'll be at your place in fifteen minutes.'
'There are warrants out. Grand larceny. Contempt of court. Fleeing custody. If stupidity were a crime, there'd be another count.'
'Fifteen minutes,' he repeated. 'Front door.'
'I'll bust you.'
'No, you won't,' Payne said, feeling a sense of deja vu. They'd had a similar conversation before. What was it?
Oh, that.
When she'd told him she was divorcing him. He hadn't believed her then, either.
TWENTY-FOUR
'Road trip.'
Sharon hated the phrase. Jimmy had said it before, when he planned to go to Mexico and find Manuel Garcia. Not just find him. Kill him.
Hanging up the phone, she decided that the only way to help Jimmy was to protect him from himself. She would do what she had just promised. Arrest her ex-husband and take him downtown.
She knew the source of his problems. Jimmy had never come to grips with Adam's death. He either wallowed in his own pain or pretended their son was still alive. His mood swung from raging anger to mute alienation.
In her grief, Sharon had turned to Catholicism, while he embraced nihilism.
Not giving a hoot about anything or anyone, least of all himself.
Always reckless in the courtroom, after Adam's death he had become unhinged. He'd attacked an insurance company lawyer in a personal injury trial. Called the man a 'lying, scumbag whore'-as if that were some startling revelation-and tossed him over the railing into the lap of juror number three. The judge ordered anger management counseling, which Payne said really pissed him off.
And now this. Stealing five thousand dollars in sting money. Then fleeing a holding cell in the courthouse and resisting arrest. What would he do, Sharon wondered, when she took him downtown?
She could hear him now.
'That's what I get for marrying an Irish cop.'
He'd said it whenever she tried to keep him from crossing the hazy line between vigorous advocacy and downright illegality. Sharon's father, Daniel Lacy, was a Philadelphia cop. So were two of her uncles, three cousins, and both brothers. Born rebellious, Sharon was sixteen when she announced at Christmas dinner that she would never join the 'family business,' as the Lacys called police work.
She exhibited a wanderlust not commonplace in the Lacy brood. While her folks begged her to stay home and go to St. Joe's, she accepted a volleyball scholarship at U.C.L.A. She played the demanding libero position, which showcased her defensive skills. Diving. Digging. Scraping knees and elbows. She loved the no-frills nature of the job. Appealing, too, for a free spirit, the libero wore a different color jersey than the rest of the team.
She majored in English but transferred into Administration of Justice after one too many L.A. juries acquitted a celebrity who killed his wife. Degree in hand, she was accepted into the Police Academy, and a dozen people named Lacy traveled from Philadelphia for her graduation.
Sharon continued playing beach volleyball, which is where she met Jimmy Payne. He still claimed he was jogging in the gray sand of Will Rogers Beach when he picked up an errant ball and she started flirting with him. As she remembered it, Jimmy was passing out business cards to a crew of paramedics resuscitating a swimmer when he spotted her, then planted himself like a palm tree in the sand. Two hours later, he was still there, sunburned and shaggy-haired, waiting to meet her.
In those days, there were so many things to admire about Jimmy. A sense of justice and total commitment to his clients. Fearlessness in court and tenderness toward her. A selflessness and a rejection of materialism.
Jimmy turned out to be a wonderful husband and loving father. It tore at her to see him filled with anger and vengeance, his heart devoid of love.
Now she regretfully prepared to bust him. But first, she had to deal with her fiance, who had awakened grouchy when the phone rang.
'When will Payne learn he can't turn to you every time he screws up his life?'
'I don't know, Cullen. I'm not responsible for his actions.'
'Sure you are.' Quinn ran a brush through his fine head of hair. 'You encourage him by always being there. Which is more than the bastard did for you. Deep down, he hopes you'll take him back.'
'That's not gonna happen.'
'I know that. But does Payne?'
The doorbell rang. Jimmy. Early. Damn.
Her ribbon-trimmed satin chemise was all wrong for making an arrest. But no time to change.
Sharon hung a badge on a cord around her neck and grabbed her handcuffs.
'You're going downstairs in your lingerie?' Cullen asked.
'Jimmy's seen me in less.' It felt good to say it, what with all the badgering. Cullen scowled, making Sharon
