Delta Stevens 1: Taken by Storm

This is a work of fiction. Any similarity between characters and people, dead or alive, is a coincidence.

Copyright © 1991 by Linda Kay Silva All rights reserved.

This book is dedicated to Chloé, without whom my words and my life would still be chunks of coal.

The fulfilling of a lifelong dream does not happen without people who attempt to understand and support our eccentricities. I would like to thank the following people for their unending love and acceptance of the writer in me.

To Rhonda — for uttering those immortal words, “Submit something,” and for being the wind beneath my wings.

To P.J. and Tracy — for opening your hearts and your home to me.

To Julie — for loving me in spite of m yourself.

To my English teachers — for finding the spark and igniting it.

To my Mom and Dad — for giving me the strength and courage to be who I am and to fight for what I believe in. To the Mother and the Boyfriend — for always warming my lap and my life. A very special thanks to Deanna and Brenda for caring enough about women’s literature to take a chance.

Linda Kay Silva, an ex-cop, lives and teaches in Oregon. She holds a Masters in English with an emphasis in 18th Century British Literature and a passion for anything Medievil. When she isn't inspiring students to contemplate the world in which they live, she's reading and writing and dreaming up more stories than she can write out long hand with her Pentel mechanical pencil (yes, she writes her first draft long hand, even as both a Mac and an IBM are at her disposal). On the rare sunny Oregon day, she can be found puttering in the greenhouse, making bird toys in her "fort" or sitting on her deck over-looking her pond.

Linda Kay has recently completed the sixth novel of the Delta Stevens Series, and is rewriting a new novel set in medieval England and modern day America. The novel deals with past life, as two women search to see if the connection they share isn't much deeper than what this life can meld together. Linda Kay invites your comments, questions and quips, about anything ranging from writing to the rain forest. She is an avid naturalist, a beginning gardener, a Harley enthusiast, a lover of all things Celtic, a fan of Elizabeth Peters and Diana Gabaldon, a teacher, a macaw owner, and the pet of Milo, her beagle. Linda Kay plans on writing until the day she can no longer hold a Pentel.

As the crisp November air slid through the slightly open window, Delta shivered and rolled the window all the way up. It was a colder California winter than any she’d ever experienced. Usually, she could get by in the winter with wearing only her long sleeved uniform, but not so this year. Watching Miles crank the heater up, Delta smiled.

Reaching over to the radio blabbering numbers and codes, Delta turned down the volume. They hadn’t been called to a scene in over two hours, and the most interesting call of the night was assisting a paramedic change a flat tire on the ambulance. The cold seemed to deter even the criminal element, and, for once, Delta was grateful for the quiet.

Glancing over at Miles, her partner of three years, Delta sighed. He needed a slow night as well. She didn’t know if he was moonlighting, sharing a second honeymoon with Jennifer, or what, but he’d been awfully tired the last few nights. Whatever it was, Miles did not seem his usual cheerful self. He was coming to work irritable and crabby, often snapping at her for the tiniest of mistakes. Once or twice, she’d caught him napping when she drove. None of this was characteristic of the man who secretly wished he could be Batman, the caped crusader, when he grew up. His recent lethargy and anxiety was beginning to worry her.

Looking over at a sleeping Miles, head back against the head rest, mouth opened a bit, his trimmed, brown moustache twitched in the semi-darkness of the car, Delta smiled to herself. It had taken him nearly a year to grow it. She remembered the day she’d bought him his first moustache comb. When he unwrapped it, he laughed that deep, throaty laugh that attracted so many women. His hearty laugh was a perfect match for his chiseled good looks and static blue eyes. Miles was the archetypal man in blue; a big barreled chest tapering to a flat stomach and taut waist. He was one of the few cops in their station who wasn’t overweight or undertall. He looked, to her, strangely like the prototype for the Ken doll and attracted more Barbie look-alikes than any other cop on the road. To Delta, that was most definitely one of the bonuses of having such a charmer for a partner.

Returning her gaze to the empty street ahead, Delta’s smile was replaced by a slow spreading frown. There was no question that Miles was one of the few men Delta loved in her life. It was Miles who offered his broad shoulders when she and Sandy broke up. When Delta’s father died, Miles and his buddies helped her mother move to a smaller home and safer neighborhood. Not only was he one of her best friends, he was also the best cop she’d ever worked with. In their three years together, they had pulled each other out of tight spots on too many occasions to count. They had always been there for each other. What bothered her most was, where was he now?

Pulling down a narrow alley which commonly slept anywhere from six to a dozen homeless, Delta peered through the darkness and shined her side lamp upon the restless weary crawling away from the light like skittering rats. This meant they were at least alive; at best, it was an indication that none of them had been rolled in the past two hours. They could sleep the remainder of the night in their miserable existence. Delta shook her head sadly.

Turning her lamp off, Delta sighed. If only there was something more she could do to insure their relative safety.

When she first became a cop, her intention was to take her college degree in Social Science and earn enough money to go to law school. But once she hit the streets, she fell in love with the job. Immediately, she enjoyed interacting with the diverse individuals on her beat and loved the energy and vivaciousness of the city at night. Her rapport with merchants and teens alike grew immensely during her first year, so that her beat soon felt like home. Delta also found it incredibly satisfying to collar a criminal after doing her homework on his patterns, motives, and techniques. She never knew life could be so exciting until she became a cop. After less than six weeks on the force, Delta gave up any ideas of law school. It was a decision she never regretted.

Glancing over at Miles, Delta swerved the car so that it rode on the center reflectors.

“How long have I been asleep?” Miles rubbed his eyes like a boy rising from a nap.

“Too long.”

Miles groaned. “Now don’t start on me again. I’m just not sleeping very well, that’s all.”

Delta shot a suspicious glance at him. “Oh? And why is that?”

“Damn it Del, sometimes you’re a worse nag than Jennifer. I’ve just had a lot on my mind lately, and I’m having trouble falling asleep. Period. End of subject.”

In one swift motion, Delta turned into a parking lot, turned the radio down, unhooked her seatbelt, and turned to face Miles before he could utter a single protest.

“That’s not the end of subject. Look, my safety depends on having a partner who is clearheaded enough to make the right decisions. For the past two weeks, you’ve been walking around in a fog. If you’re going to jeopardize your life as well as mine, I at least deserve to know why!”

Bowing his head, Miles stared down at his hands folded neatly in his lap.

Reaching for one of his hands, Delta lightly squeezed it. Playing the tough guy with him had never been easy. Like so many men she knew, Miles was more boy than man. “Miles, we’ve always been honest with each other. Always. Whatever it is, you know you can talk to me about it.”

Delta’s eyes searched his profile, looking for some clue that would let her into the far recesses of his preoccupied mind.

Slowly, Miles raised his face and forced a grin. “It’s nothing, Del, really. I’m bored. I want Vice. I need more action, and I belong there. I want to do more than ride around all night only to arrive ninety percent of the time after the fact. I want to bust real crimes and real criminals. I get so damned frustrated sometimes.”

“And you think Vice’ll be that much different?”

Miles nodded. “Those guys, they live on the edge. They make things happen. They act, we react. They do, we wait. That’s the difference. I want to experience that difference, Del.”

Delta released his hand and ran her fingertips over the barrel of the shotgun resting securely next to the radio. They’d had this conversation before; only the last time they’d had it, she and Miles had busted a crack house for a hundred and sixty pounds of the shit. It had made his month. It also showed him how much he wanted on Vice.

“Maybe you need a new partner.”

“No way, Del. We’re both being wasted on patrol, and you know it. I want us both to go on to bigger and better things, and if I go, I’m taking you with me.”

This made Delta laugh. “I’m afraid it doesn’t work that way, partner.” True to his nature, Miles was steadfast in his loyalty—both on and off the job. Early in their partnership, when they were bringing a suspect to the jail, the admitting deputy pulled Miles aside and asked if he’d been able to “bone the dyke.” Miles reached through the opening, grabbed the deputy around the collar, and yanked his face into the glass partition. That was the last time Delta heard any comment about her sexual identity. It was also the first time she knew how deeply Miles cared for her.

“We’ll get there soon enough Miles.”

“Bullshit. You don’t get to Vice by doing time. You get there by breaking open a case larger than life. You get there by putting your ass on the line.”

Delta’s eyes narrowed. “Is that what you’re doing? Putting your ass on some line?”

Miles shook his head. “You know me better than that. I’d tell you if I had something I was ready to nail down.”

“Well, you’re starting to make me nervous.”

Miles leaned back and sighed. “I’m sorry. I know I haven’t exactly been a joy to be around.”

“It’s nothing to do with you and Jen, I hope.”

“Nah, nothing like that.”

Delta heaved a sigh that equalled Miles’s. “Good. I was afraid...you know...because you were so tired . . .”

Miles reached over and laid a hand on Delta’s shoulder. “Not a chance. Besides, the rule is only one divorce per partner per year, remember?”

Delta did not reply.

“How are you doing?” Miles pointed to Delta’s heart.