Jump The Line (Toein' The Line Book 1) (46 page)

Oh, I know, Stoke.  I know.
 

If I can persuade him to miss class and get that video equipment,
I’
ll have my chance to search his apartment and prove it.

“
Okay, Blaze
,”
he says, finally agreeing.
 “I’
ll get the equipment.  You come to my place right after work tonight.  W
e’
ll make your video. 
I’
m looking forward
,”
he adds
,“
to seeing you dance
.
”

“I’
ll be there
,”
I say, swallowing hard.  I
t’
s frightening that h
e’
s suddenly so agreeable.
 “I’
ll pick up a toothbrush at CVS before I come tonight
,”
I say.
 “
And . . . Stoke
?
”

“
Yeah
?
”

“
Thanks.  I appreciate you being here for me.  Yo
u’
re a good friend.  My Robin Hood
.
”

“
Was not Robin Hood always there for his Maid Marian
?
”

“
Sure thing
,”
I say, feeling my acting improving.  Robin Hood was a thug who led good men into danger and to their deaths.  The only difference between Stoke, and Robin Hood and Maid Marian, is they had better taste in clothing.  And they were
n’
t cannibals. 

“
See you
,”
I say, disconnecting.

I put out my thumb to hitch a ride.  I have work to do.  My best frien
d’
s been murdered.  Ther
e’
s a gir
l’
s shoulder in my fridge in a black plastic garbage bag, and the cops think Robin put it there.  My apartmen
t’
s a crime scene, so
I’
m officially homeless, and ther
e’
s LEOs crawling all over, probably pawing through my underwear and sniffing my G-string collection this very moment.  Worse, my mo
m’
s going to show up t
o“
help
.
” 

But I am Berta Colb
y’
s daughter. 

And Megalo Do
n’
s worst nightmare. 

If I have my way,
I’
m going to be his demise, his end.  I know criminals.  Being a Colby, I know how the
y’
re wired, how they think.  I also know how to take them down. 

A guy in a Lexus pulls into a metered slot parallel to the sidewalk and rolls down his window.
 “
Hi, there.  You need a ride
?
”

* * *

I check the back seat to make sure h
e’
s got no hidden passengers.  I want no surprises.  All
I’
m holding now is a cup of hot black coffe
e—
a useful weapo
n—
and my shiv, even more useful.  Ther
e’
s also my razor blade, but
I’
m saving it.  Using it to cut anyone other than myself would be an act of extreme sacrilege.

I jump in, stowing my backpack squarely between us on the console. 

“
Where to
?”
he asks, leering.   

Clearly, h
e’
s a perv.  H
e’
s sure no do-gooder trying to feel good by giving a hitchhiking college student a lift.  Great.  One more problem to deal with.

“
Campus.  Where do I
look
like
I’
m heading?  Let me out near Echo
.
”

Acting angry because
I’
ve deprived him of his morning trick, he pulls from the curb, turning on the radio and plugging in to the morning news.  700 WLW, th
e“
Big One
.
”

I shoul
d’
ve known.  I
t’
s a local station that goes to thirty-eight states, or so the rabid announcer says after two guys finish ranting about the crime rate in Cincinnati.  That gives me a laugh.  The crime rat
e’
s about to go up, unless I can do something to stop Stoke Farrel.

“
You . . . need anything
?”
the guy asks.
 “
Money
?
” 

Hellfire.
 

I shoot him a sideways glance. 
I’
ve been warned about hitchhiking, but what am I supposed to do?  I spent my last two bucks on coffee. 

“
No, thanks
,”
I say, hoisting my steaming coffee cup, in case I have to toss it in his face.
 “
How about you?  Do you need anything?  You know, lik
e—
legal trouble? 
I’
m underage
,”
I lie, glad I look so young.

“
Just checking
,”
he says. 

I thought so. 
Pussy
.  Any of my mo
m’
s boyfriends, m
y“
uncles
,”
would be pawing all over me by now. 
I’
d have to use my shiv, maybe even slic
e‘
em up with my razor blade.  But this one backs right off, so I settle in and think.  How am I going to get evidence?  Stok
e’
s an honor student and, like me, a criminology major.  If h
e’
s Megalo Don, h
e’
s also experienced eluding the law.  And dangerous.

The man runs a red light and makes a left on Echo.  The Lexus careening on two wheels, the guy shoots through another stop sign.  I laugh.  He ca
n’
t wait to unload me, under age jail bait and all.  That lie works every time.  I
t’
s my small boobs and big innocent eyes.  I can still pass for seventeen. 

So what evidence do I have that would help Aidan convict Stoke Farrel?

None. 

Furthermore, other than my hunch about Stoke being Bubby, the kid I played with as a child, and who ate Julianna Shor
t’
s toe, how do I know for sure Robin is
n’
t Megalo Don?  H
e’
s begged me to trust him, and all
I’
ve done is suspect him of murder.  But disloyal sister that
I’
ve been, I know Robin did
n’
t put that black plastic garbage bag with the gir
l’
s shoulder in it inside my freezer, so Stoke had to.  I pat my backpack wedged on the seat between me and Pervert. 

I feel myself softening toward Aidan, missing him. 

Should I call him? 

W
e’
ll see.  I need time.  When I talk to him, I want to be in control of my feelings.  Even though
I’
ve vowed to fly solo, I do
n’
t know if I can.  I wonder, after the way he made me feel when we made love, if
I’
ll ever be happy again without him.

“
Here
,”
I say, a block from Verbote Dental.
 “
Let me out
.
”

Pervert slides the Lexus to the curb and guns off before I can even close the car door.  I peek at his business card, which I palmed from a box on his car seat, while he was listening to th
e“
Big One
.
”
 
H
e’
s a lawyer.

Chapter 41

Alain
a’
s pissed.  I get it in hind sight. 
I’
d shown up.  We went to bed.  Next day, my brothers in blue showed up to arrest her brother, Robin.

All unplanned.  Or was it?  Did I go to her apartment, hoping to get lucky, or did I go for the reason I told myself: to warn her?

I shake my head.  I ca
n’
t convince myself.  How do I expect her to believe I did
n’
t use her so sh
e’
d roll over on her brother?

I know she thinks so, but I did
n’
t. 

“
Aidan, you are one lying bastard
,”
I tell myself.  Sure, I went to her apartment to warn her about Megalo Don, but I kept telling myself I had no serious intention of sleeping with her.  I barely know Alaina, except for what happened between us last night, but from the moment I first laid eyes on her, I had one thing in mind, and it had nothing to do with arresting her brother.

Pulling into my parking space at Newport PD, I glance into my rear-view mirror.
 “
You look rough, Hawks
.
”
 
Pulling a piece of carpet fuzz from my chin, I grin.  I have
n’
t had sex that wild since I was sixteen.  It feels great to be Aidan Hawks this morning, even if I do have a homicide case trying to spiral out of control.

“
Damned if
I’
ll let it
,”
I say. 

I’
d been sleeping soundly, after my and Alain
a’
s third or fourth rom
p—
I lost track after we moved from the carpet in the hallway to her tiny be
d—
when my beeper went off.  It was the only morning in six years I regretted being a detective.  If I had
n’
t had this damn meeting with Captain Meyers this morning,
I’
d be in Alain
a’
s bed right now, kissing her awake. 

But
I’
d scrambled dutifully out of her bed, grabbing my badge, guns, taser and cuffs, and then
I’
d flown into her postage stamp sized bathroom and dressed. 

Once NPD and Cincinnati officers showed up, all hell broke loose, so I was on the phone with Captain Meyers when I realized Alaina was
n’
t in her apartment.  Worried,
I’
d gone outside, where I spotted the black and whites, the FBI blues and then Newpor
t’
s squad cars converging on the street in front of Alain
a’
s apartment building.  In seconds, my sleep deprived brain had awakened. 

“
Detective Hawks, get your ass over to 19807 Clifton Avenue, Apartment B-4
,”
Captain Meyers had yelled into my phone.

I was tempted to tell him
,“I’
m already here
.
”   

When Alaina rounded the corner of the building, she looked terrible, like sh
e’
d lost her best friend.
 “I’
m sorry, Aidan
,”
she kept saying
,“
I can explain
.
” 

Wh
y’
d she keep apologizing?  What the hell had she been trying to explain?  I had no time to find out because the whole area, including her apartment and the Coca-Cola truck sitting outside, had been turned into a crime scene.  The news that her brother was a suspect, that he might even be Megalo Don, had kicked me into high gear.

Was it her brother driving the Coca-Cola truck that night in the alley behind Oma
r’
s?  Has she been part of the Megalo Don murders all along? 

The last thing I want to believe is that sh
e’
s involved, or that her brother, Robin Colby, is Megalo Don, but i
t’
s my job to ask the tough questions. 
I’
ll call her when I get the chance and straighten things out between us.  For now, ther
e’
s no concrete evidence.  Non
e—
as yet. 
I’
ll meet with Meyers and the Feebs, see what they know.  Maybe I can get a better idea of wha
t’
s going on.

Pulling my exhausted but satisfied body from the Buick, I want nothing more than to get my eight
o’
clock with Captain Meyers over and then go sort out the facts.  The half hour of sleep I had, after Alaina and I exhausted ourselves, is
n’
t cutting it.

“
You piece of shit
!
”

I step back.  DeeDee comes flying across the parking lot, storming around the front of my car.  What the hell did she do?  Park beside me intentionally so she could ambush me? 

“
Whoa!  DeeDee, what the hell is this
?
” 

She tosses my blue windbreaker at me.  It lands like a parachute on my face and clings there until I pull it off.
 “
Wher
e’
d you get this
?
”

Wrong question, but i
t’
s already out, and I ca
n’t—
and do
n’
t wish to hid
e—
the fact
I’
m the windbreake
r’
s owner. 

“
How could you?  Aidan, I ca
n’
t believe yo
u’
d sleep with the likes of her
.
”

“
Wha
t’
s it any of your business who I sleep with
?
”

Before locking my Buick, I toss the windbreaker inside, keeping an eye on DeeDee.  Sh
e’
s clearly pissed, but that makes two of us.  I hate standing here listening to her emotional outburst.

“
Any of my business?  Yo
u’
re my
partner
.
”

She does
n’
t back off, keeps coming at me, blue eyes drawn into a scorching gaze of hate.
 “
I
t’
s none of my business who you sleep with, but I thought since yo
u’
d asked me over tonight we had somethin
g
—”

Hellfire.
  I want to tell her that her outrage is out of proportion to what it reasonably should be, but recognizing an unhinged woman, a furious woman, I stay calm.  Sh
e’
s wearing a Baby Sig, a .40 caliber on that svelte hip. 

Never should allow rookies to have guns.  They always opt for the biggest hogs they can find.
 

Wait a minute.  I take a second look.
 “
Nice gun, but tha
t’
s not the heat you were packing when we ate breakfast at Arne
e’
s
,”
I say, tryin
g—
and failin
g—
to distract her.
 “
tha
t’
s not your service weapon
.
”

“
I got a new one, alright
?
”

“
Okay
,”
I say, wondering if she collects guns like some women do panties.
 “
Listen, DeeDee,
I’
m sorry if you feel I misled you, but w
e’
re both adults
.
” 

“
One of us is
,”
she says.
 “
Not you
.
”

“
Look, w
e’
ve got a meetin
g
—”

I glance toward the NPD annex.  Truth known, Captain Meyers and Wes are probably up on sixth floor, watching me take heat from DeeDee, and laughing. 

I angle my body toward my Buic
k’
s front end to make myself a smaller target.  If bullets start flying, maybe I can duck.  A firefight in NP
D’
s parking lot wo
n’
t look too good, but DeeDe
e’
s not displaying the usual tears of female anger; instead, she looks like an enraged killer.  I catch her gaze and hold it, hoping I can use the psychology I learned earning my degree at Kin
g’
s Point. 

“
I only asked you to dinner, okay
?
”

I did
n’
t ask you to marry me.

She snorts.

“
I think yo
u’
ve become fixated on me.  Sexually
.
”

DeeDee snorts.
 “
Yo
u’
re an ass, a cold-hearted bastard, and the last man
I’
d ge
t
”
—
sh
e’
s practically spitting nail
s
—
“
fixated on
.
”

“
I know, I know.  Yo
u’
re right
,”
I say, agreein
g—
afraid not t
o—
and easing around the Buic
k’
s front end.
 “
So
I’
ve been told
.
”

“
For the record
,”
she says, closing the distance between us
,“
I do
n’
t give a damn which whore you sleep with
.
”

Hearing her call Alaina a whore makes me want to grab DeeDee and choke her, but ever the diplomat, I keep trying to calm her.
 “I’
m glad you do
n’
t care about who I sleep with, although I do
n’
t think your behavior at the moment supports that.  But for the record, Alain
a’
s no whore.  Sh
e’
s a nice gir
l
—”

DeeDe
e’
s eyes narrow.  For a second, I worry the gunfight
I’
m working to avoid is now a foregone conclusion. 
I’
m a homicide cop, not a hostage negotiator. 
I’
ve obviously said the wrong thin
g—
again.  By now, however, I know anything I say is going to be wrong.

“
That . . .
girl
,”
she spits
,“
who you chose to
fuc
k
”
—
more spitting and hissing, undoing her obvious lie and revealing DeeDe
e’
s jealous
y
—
“
is the sister of Megalo Don, the serial killer yo
u’
re supposed to be investigating for several homicides.  Do
n’
t you have any fucking professional ethics, Detective Hawks
?
”

What am I doing arguing with a rookie?  I take a threatening step toward her.
 “
Are you accusing me of doing something unethical by sleeping with Alaina Colby
?
”

“
Yes.  Sh
e’
s a fucking witness for Chris
t’
s sake.  Sh
e’
s also Megalo Do
n’
s sister
.
”

“I’
m lead on this case, but I had no idea Robin Colby might be Megalo Don
?”
I ask, holding back a disgusted snort.  I want to keep this discussion rational, a steadily increasing challenge. 

“
Robin Colb
y’
s a suspect, DeeDee.  No on
e’
s offered any forensic evidence proving h
e’
s Megalo Don
.
”

“
Innocent until proven guilty, right
?”
she says.
 “
Who died and made you Captain America
?
”