Internal Affair (20 page)

The clicking sound of heels hurrying along the vinyl flooring registered on the perimeter of his mind.

“Patrick, wait.”

Patrick just kept walking down the hall as if he hadn’t heard her. Maggi stepped up her pace until she managed to overtake him just shy of the elevator. She moved in front of him, preventing him access to the buttons.

“I said wait.”

With both hands on her shoulders, he moved her roughly aside, then punched the Down button. He’d never felt so explosive, so angry.

“Your report’s filed, Mary Margaret,” he spit. “You don’t have to hang around me anymore.”

The best thing was to walk away, to let him cool off. But the look of contempt in his eyes sliced her open from end to end. She had to make him understand.

“Patrick, please—” she caught hold of his arm “—let me explain.”

He shrugged her off, curbing the impulse to shake her, to demand why she’d made him feel so much when all she was doing was spying on him. He knew it was unreasonable, but so were his emotions.

“Explain what?” he asked coldly. “There’s nothing to explain. You were sent in to spy on me. You spied, it’s over.”

The last two words slammed into her. Never mind that she’d known they were coming, that she’d been trying to prepare herself for them all along. She didn’t want it to be over. Not like this.

“Patrick, I had a job to do—”

“And you did it.” His tone cut her off at the knees. “Very commendable.” He turned from the elevator. The anger in his eyes took her breath away. “Tell me, did you get time and a half for sleeping with me? Or was that just a new part of the job description?”

He couldn’t have hurt her more if he’d spent months orchestrating his words. She felt the sting of tears and pushed them back. “Don’t be like that—”

“Oh? And how would you like me to be?”

Incensed, he grabbed Maggi by the arm and pulled her into an alcove, aiming for some semblance of privacy in this goldfish bowl he’d found himself in.

“You lied to me,” he accused. “You burrowed your hooks into me and pumped me for information any way you could.” And then he told her the real source of his pain. The real source of the betrayal he felt. “I opened myself up to you the way I never had to anyone else before.” Disgusted, he thrust her away from him, shaking his head as he mocked himself. “Damn it, I bought the whole puppet show, didn’t I? The decorations, the Christmas tree, the toy drive—nice touch, by the way,” he said sarcastically. “Did you find out that my mother, sister and I had to stay at a St. Agnes Shelter one year, was that what motivated you?” When he thought about how he’d felt, standing there in her living room, listening to her…his stomach just turned.

“No, I
do
collect toys for kids. All of that was real,
is
real,” she insisted. “I didn’t pretend to be anything I wasn’t.” She didn’t want him to think that had been to manipulate him. Most of all, whether or not they were ever together again, she didn’t want him to hate her.

Sheer contempt for her and her kind blazed in his eyes. “Except that what you were was part of the rat squad.”

He knew better. He knew how the system worked. It was in place so that they could police themselves and keep them all clean, keep the public from doing the job for them.

“I couldn’t tell you that. It was my job to clear you.”

Did she think he was some kind of mental incompetent? They all knew how IA operated. “It was your job to find dirt that would stick.”

“But I didn’t.”

“Damn straight you didn’t, because there isn’t any.”

She felt herself getting angry in self-defense. “Evidence can always be manipulated, Cavanaugh, you know that.”

“So if I didn’t perform satisfactorily, you would have turned me in?”

Maggi threw her hands up in frustration. “That’s not what I’m saying. Patrick, be reasonable.”

“I am being reasonable.” He glanced at his watch and then strode back to the elevator. When she attempted to block him, he growled, “Now get the hell out of my way.”

Something was up. She could tell by the look on his face. “Where are you going?”

The elevator doors opened again. The car hadn’t gone anywhere in the interim. Much like them, Patrick thought, anger eating away at him. “That’s no longer any business of yours, is it?”

A sense of panic began to set in. What was he going to do? “I’m still your partner.”

He got into the elevator and pressed the Close button. The look in his eyes forbade her to follow him in.

“Wrong. Again.”

The elevator doors shut, underscoring the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.

Chapter 20

“F
oster, you in here?”

Patrick’s voice echoed back to him from within the confines of the empty warehouse he’d just entered. Filled with rusting metal rows that extended upward of two stories, the building had once held a profusion of boxed toys. Now it stood abandoned, as barren as the bankrupt toy store chain that had once required its contents.

He strained his eyes to see. Ramirez’s old partner had called to tell him that he had some information for him but that Foster would only meet him here. The man feared reprisals. It was here or nowhere. Patrick had had no choice but to agree.

A movement on the left caught his attention. Foster, slight for his uniform, stepped out of the shadows. His sandy-colored hair looked darker in the poor light coming through barred windows with years of dirt and grime on them.

“Yeah, I’m here.” Foster beckoned him away from the entrance. “Come on in.”

Patrick left the door behind him standing open. He scanned the area as he approached. There was no sound except for Foster’s breathing. Was the other man nervous? Did he feel threatened?

Was this just another wild-goose chase? Questions crowded Patrick’s mind.

“Don’t you think this is a little dramatic?” he asked. “A coffeehouse or diner would have been better.” Foster’s body was a symphony of motion. He
was
nervous, Patrick thought.

“I told you, I didn’t want anyone overhearing us.”

Patrick drew the only conclusion he could. “So there is something you want to tell me. Why didn’t you say something when I questioned you the last time?”

“Couldn’t.” Foster became steadily more agitated as he talked. “Things’ve changed. But you can’t say this came from me.”

They were both aware of how the system worked. Guarantees couldn’t be made. “I’ll protect you for as long as I can, Foster, but I can’t make any promises, you know that.”

Foster struggled with what he knew he had to do. With what he didn’t want to do. “Then maybe there’s nothing to say.”

No way was he going to let Foster out of here without the other man telling him what he knew. “Yes, there is. You wouldn’t have gone in for this cheap movie effect if there wasn’t.”

For a second, the cornered-rabbit expression was gone. Foster looked around the dust-laden building. Nostalgia came over his thin features.

“My dad used to be the foreman here. Brought me around to play when I was a kid.”

Patrick curbed his impatience. The man was stalling. Why? “In a warehouse?”

“He was a single dad and this was cheaper than having someone look after me after school. This place used to be where Melbourne Toys kept their inventory.” Foster pointed toward shelves in the rear of the building. “That’s where they kept the boxes with the action figures. I’d wait until no one was looking then work open the side of a box. A toy here, a toy there, nobody noticed.”

The nostalgia gave way to a shrug. “Maybe it started here, I dunno. Thinking that it was all right to take something as long as nobody noticed. As long as you took from someone rich instead of the average guy in the street.” Foster looked at Patrick, a defensive tone entering his voice. He was no longer talking about toys and petty theft. “We never took anything from the mom-and-pop places, only the ones who could afford it.”

Was it just the two men, or did this involve more people? He had a hunch, he knew. But he needed more than just a hunch. Patrick tried to siphon the information from the other man carefully. “By took, you mean what?”

Foster sneered. “Don’t play dumb, Cavanaugh. Money. What else would I be talking about? The owners paid us, we took care of them. Any tickets, any violations, they didn’t get written up.”

Patrick didn’t have to be a genius to know how the operation worked. “And if they didn’t pay, the violations were written up and fined even if they didn’t exist.”

“Something like that.”

Time to push. “How many of you were there?” Fear entered Foster’s eyes. “Ramirez’s account was pretty healthy,” Patrick said.

“Enough.” As he spoke, Foster began to move around, to pace. “Eddie wasn’t part of it, not the way you think. He stumbled onto what was going on and got paid to keep his mouth shut. When he didn’t want to keep it that way any longer, things happened.” Foster shrugged helplessly. “I’m sorry. He was a good guy.”

Patrick could almost believe Foster regretted what had happened. But it was too late for regrets. “Who had him killed? How far up does this go?”

Foster shook his head. “Sorry, privileged information. On both counts.”

“You’re going to have to come clean.” He wasn’t going to allow the man to get away, not after this. One bad cop gave them all a bad name.

Foster’s eyes became steely. “No, the only thing I have to do is this.”

Patrick mentally cursed himself. His anger at McKenna’s deceit had clouded his judgment, dulled that sixth sense of his that always warned him when something was about to go wrong. Or maybe it had just gotten impaired after totally going haywire because of Maggi.

It was the only explanation for why he didn’t see it coming. Why he didn’t see that he was walking into a trap.

Patrick found himself looking down the business end of the gun in Foster’s hand.

Foster thought he could read what was going on in Cavanaugh’s mind. “No, it’s not regulation issue. It belongs to a dead man. Nobody’s going to be able to trace this.” His eyes narrowed slightly, but his voice wavered as he said, “Or find you.”

A shot rang out. Foster screamed and the weapon he’d been aiming at Patrick went flying from his hands. Patrick made a dive for it. Only when he had the gun in his hands did he turn around to see the small figure running in through the warehouse entrance.

Maggi. Goddamn it, it was Maggi. Was she out of her mind?

“What the hell are you doing here?” he demanded roughly.

Maggi’s eyes were on the fallen patrolman, watching for the one false move that would trip them up. “Tying up loose ends, saving you, take your pick.” It was damn hard to sound flippant, what with her heart in her mouth and all.

Instinct had made her follow Patrick when he’d left the police station even while she’d counseled herself to give him some space. She knew she didn’t like being crowded when she had to work something out for herself. But patience wasn’t her long suit in this case.

Maggi was eternally grateful that just this once she hadn’t listened to her head, but gone with her instincts and her heart. If she hadn’t, Patrick could well be dead by now.

“How about dying alongside of him?”

The question came from the row of dust-encrusted shelves just behind them.

Captain Amos Reynolds stepped out, a gun in his hand. Contempt flared in his eyes as he glanced in Foster’s direction. The latter looked as surprised as Maggi felt to see the senior officer.

This was bad, Maggi thought, very bad.

“Get up, you idiot. I knew you’d botch this,” Reynolds said to the other man.

Foster began to take a step forward, but the look in Reynolds’s eyes froze him in place. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, she got the drop on me.”

Anger and disgust creased the captain’s handsome face. “Do you have any idea how pathetic that sounds?” He moved the barrel of his weapon to point at Foster. The other man jumped uneasily. “Three bodies are just as easy to get rid of as two.” Smoothly Reynolds swung his hand back to aim at Patrick. “Drop your weapons, you two.”

Patrick’s hand only tightened on his. “You can’t kill both of us.”

Reynolds’s gaze was unrelenting. “I can and I will unless you do exactly as I say. I’m not about to let you mess up something that’s been going on for ten years. Everyone was protected, no one got hurt.”

As if that made it right, Patrick thought. “Tell that to Ramirez,” he spit.

Reynolds appeared unfazed. “That was unfortunate. It was only meant to be a warning, just a wound. But he moved.” Reynolds looked in Maggi’s direction. “It worked with your father.”

Maggi’s mouth dropped open. “My father?” Anger colored her cheeks. Reynolds wasn’t fit to mention her father’s name.

“Don’t look so indignant.” The soothing tone of Reynolds’s voice only served to agitate her further. “He doesn’t know anything. But he was starting to ask uncomfortable questions. Getting him off the force was the best way to deal with it.” His smile was cold. “You don’t worry about inconsistencies you’ve stumbled across when you’re busy trying to cope with regaining the use of your leg.”

All pretense at civility terminated. His eyes darkened. “Now I’m not going to ask you again. Drop your weapons.” He took aim at Maggi. “Or she goes first.”

Patrick had no other choice.

If he dropped his weapon, they’d be gunned down where they stood. He knew it.

It was going to be a matter of split-second timing. Shoving Maggi out of the way, he took dead aim and fired. Reynolds went down, spasmodically getting off one shot before he fell face forward to the floor. Dead.

Patrick whirled around and trained his weapon on Foster.

“Don’t even think it,” he warned. He kept his gun aimed at Foster as he warily approached the fallen captain. “Get his weapon, McKenna.” When she made no answer, adrenaline kicked up another notch. He glanced in her direction. “McKenna?”

“Give me a second,” she breathed, trying to gather herself up from her knees. Her shoulder felt as if it was on fire. Touching it, she looked down at her hand, which was covered in blood. Blood also oozed from her right shoulder, soaking its way into everything.

“Oh, my God, Maggi, you’re hit.”

Her teeth clamped down on her lower lip as she struggled to her feet. “Can’t put nothing over on you, can I?” She sucked in air. Every breath hurt.

Guilt snapped its jaws around him. He should have pulled her down. Instead of sparing her, he’d pushed her right into Reynolds’s line of fire.

“Is it bad?”

Trust Cavanaugh to understate something. It was almost funny. “Other than feeling like someone just set me on fire, no,” she answered between clenched teeth. And then she stopped. “Listen.” The sound of sirens in the distance pushed their way through the silence. “Better late than never, huh?”

She’d almost forgotten about that. On a hunch, she’d called for backup the moment she saw Foster. A man who didn’t have anything to hide didn’t go around meeting people in abandoned warehouses, didn’t take these kinds of precautions.

It was getting hard to stay focused. “Don’t let him get the drop on you again,” she warned Patrick.

It was the last thing she said before the darkness claimed her.

Maggi had opened her eyes, but he didn’t think she saw him. She looked so pale as she lay there on the gurney, so white she almost faded into the sheet.

He was afraid to say her name, afraid to call out to her and not have her respond. So as he sat beside her in the ambulance, he held on to her hand as tightly as he could. He willed her to hang on, silently forbidding her to slip away.

He’d never felt terrified before, not even when he’d been a small boy and his father had gone on a rampage, smashing things around the house, threatening to kill them all. Then his thoughts had been centered around protecting his mother and sister. But now there was nothing he could do to protect Maggi.

Nothing he could do to make her whole.

It was out of his hands and he hated the feeling of helplessness. Hated the fact that he was sitting here, maybe impotently watching her life slip away.

He wanted to yell, to rail.

He could do nothing.

Patrick bent very close to her ear, so that only she could hear him.

“I’m not going to let you go, you hear me? I forbid you to die. God damn it, Maggi, you can’t do this to me. I love you.”

Her face remained still and pale, her color a contrast to the blood spread out on her shirt.

Patrick closed his eyes and tried to remember how to pray.

Patience came flying down the long corridor. The moment she saw him, she threw her arms around her brother, embracing him. Patrick had called her less than twenty minutes ago. She’d broken speed limits to get here, using her cell phone to call the people who needed to be called as she drove to the hospital.

“How is she?” she asked breathlessly.

He shook his head. “I don’t know. They won’t tell me anything.” He sighed, feeling like a man who was just about ready to leap out of his own skin. “She’s in surgery.”

There’d been no time for details when he’d called her. Only that Maggi had been shot and that he was in the hospital with her. “What happened?”

He’d been asking himself that same question over and over again in the past half hour.

“I thought she was clear. I shoved her out of the way. Reynolds was going to kill her.” Stopping, Patrick dragged in air. It didn’t help to calm him. Nothing would help until he knew Maggi was all right again. “Instead, I pushed her right into the line of fire.”

Patience tried to lead him over to the chairs lined along the hallway. He didn’t budge, remaining against the wall as if he was holding it up. Or maybe it was holding him up.

“She’s going to be all right, Patrick. This is the best hospital in the county.”

“Yeah, right,” he said numbly.

But people died in good hospitals, didn’t they? Oh God, what if…?

He couldn’t bring himself to finish the sentence, even in his own mind.

They heard the sound of footsteps approaching quickly. The next moment, Matthew McKenna came racing down the hallway, his face as ashen as Maggi’s had been when they had wheeled her into surgery.

He’d never met Maggi’s father, but Patrick only had to take one look at the man’s face before he knew. Straightening, he met the other man halfway.

“Are you Maggi’s father?” There were suppressed tears in the man’s eyes as he nodded. “I’m Patrick Cavanaugh, Maggi’s partner. I’m the one who called you.” Belatedly, he remembered he wasn’t alone. “This is my sister, Patience.”

“They told me at the front desk that she was in surgery. Do we know anything yet?” Patrick shook his head. Matthew tried to get control over his fears. “What happened?”