Justifiable Risk (24 page)

What
had
she been thinking? Nothing could possibly come of their liaison. It was what it was and soon would be over. But the part of her that defied reason wanted to believe they could have more. That part led, actually drove, her to kiss Eva—a natural progression of their recent interactions, and it felt painfully yet wonderfully right.

Did Eva feel the pull between them? She seemed to enjoy herself at dinner and joined the easy banter between her and Bessie. Perhaps sharing in their lives had let her glimpse a possibility beyond globe-hopping. Eva was not only capable of commitment but seemed to long for it as well. After all, she’d vowed to clear her brother no matter how much time it took. That level of determination spoke to deep loyalty and character.

Greer stopped her ramblings, chastising herself for wishful thinking. She had no idea what Eva Saldana thought or wanted. She wasn’t even clear what was going on in her own mind. Did these developing feelings for Eva mean she’d forgotten about Clare? She twirled the platinum wedding band on her left ring finger. Had the time come to take it off and move forward? A twinge of guilt, then hope, flowed through her. Maybe when this case was over she’d think about her future and the possibility of another woman sharing it.

Thirty minutes later Greer straddled her bike and drove slowly past the house. Bessie stood on the back deck drinking coffee and shaking her head. Was the scowl for her skipped breakfast or her cowardly escape without speaking to Eva, again? Bessie had probably seen them kissing on the deck last night as she washed the dinner dishes. But Greer didn’t have time to examine her own behavior, much less Bessie’s. She waved on her way out of the driveway and blew Bessie a kiss for good measure.

When she walked into the squad room, a round of applause met her. JJ rushed over and threw his arm around her shoulder. He’d obviously told the other guys that they’d patched up their misunderstanding because Breeze and Craig were smiling and cheering as well. But even that revelation wouldn’t warrant such a reception. “What’s up, guys?”

“We’ve all been cleared of the sergeant and Tom’s shootings, criminally and administratively. They set some kind of investigative record on this one. Agent Long gave us the good word a few minutes ago. He wants to see you.” JJ nodded toward the sergeant’s office. “When you’re finished, get in touch. We need to talk.”

Rick Long waved her into the office and she closed the door behind her. “I hear we’ve all been cleared. Is that true?”

Long hesitated and ran his hand over close-cut hair. “Congratulations, your GSR came back clean. And the direction of the gunfire is inconsistent with your location in the warehouse. So, basically, you’ve been exonerated.”

Greer exhaled but immediately her pulse accelerated as she sensed something unsaid. “But…”

“But nothing.”

“I’m not an SBI agent, but I know when someone’s withholding information. If you have something about the sergeant and Tom’s shooter, don’t you think you should share it?”

Agent Long looked up from his files and smiled. “If you ever get tired of New Hope PD, I’d love to sponsor you for the Bureau. You’re right. There is something, but I’m not at liberty to discuss it yet. I’m waiting for one more test to come back from the lab.”

“Suit yourself.” Greer stood and moved toward the door.

“Any luck on the Saldana case? I know you’re still working it.” Greer started to explain but he interrupted. “And I don’t have a problem with that. I’ve got my hands full.”

Greer debated sharing information with Long. Her initial impression of his integrity remained intact. He had worked practically nonstop to process the crime scene and interview the squad. And he had apparently pressured the crime lab to get critical test results back in record time to clear them all. Her gut told her she could trust him.

“I found a witness that wasn’t on the original list. I hope to talk with him in the next few days.” Greer paused and Long waited. Apparently she wasn’t the only one who knew when someone was withholding information. In for a penny, in for a pound, she decided. If she expected his cooperation, she had to do likewise. “And it’s possible our top drug dealer is somehow involved. I’ll keep you posted, if you’ll do the same. I’m not sure how these two cases are linked yet, but I’d bet my career they are.”

“I agree with you, Detective, and I’ll let you know what I can.”

Greer nodded and went to find JJ. He was standing beside the industrial-sized coffee urn pouring another cup and offered her one. “Yeah, I skipped breakfast.” She moved closer and was relieved that he didn’t smell of alcohol, as he had in recent days.

“So what do you think?”

“I’m glad my ass is off the block for this one.” Greer stalled. She wanted to hear JJ’s take on what was going on before she offered her opinion.

“Something’s hinky about this shooting. If Long has cleared the squad, he has to be looking at another suspect. We were the only ones in that place, that we know about.”

Greer had the same thought. She and JJ were finally back in sync. This was what she’d missed about their strained friendship—being able to brainstorm about work and reinforce each other’s hunches. “So who could it be?”

“You better find that doper, Baron Wallace. He could be the shooter or know who is.” At Greer’s quizzical look, JJ added, “Craig told me about the pictures. It sounds like a good lead and so does the new witness you turned up. You’re on the right track.”

“Thanks.” Greer appreciated JJ’s open encouragement. But that was all he could do because of his initial involvement in the case. His endorsement would have to be enough. “Did the sergeant get out of the hospital yet?”

“Yep. He was asking about you when I went by earlier.”

“Is he at home?”

“If you can call it that. He’s still at the Grandview Hotel, their extended-stay facility. What is it, two years now? His ex-wife wouldn’t even let him go home to recuperate. And I have to tell you, he doesn’t look good.”

From the sadness in his voice, Greer knew JJ was thinking about his own domestic situation. “I’ll drop by and see him before I start looking for Baron. Put the word out with your snitches. I need some help locating this guy.” She patted his shoulder. “And don’t worry about Janice. You’ll get her back.”

Greer got the keys to her unmarked car and drove to the small hotel across town. Strange that Sergeant Fluharty hadn’t bought another house, or at least rented an apartment, after his divorce. He’d probably moved on, though, in retrospect, he looked more disheveled. Maybe she’d been too busy with her own life and grief to notice anyone else’s predicament. She’d reach out to him. After all he’d done for her, the least she could do was listen, if he wanted to talk.

As she pulled up to the office, Greer regarded the Grandview, once a stellar tourist destination in the area, now in disrepair. Since the less-expensive Days Inn had popped up near the interstate, the place had gone steadily downhill. Overgrown ivy obscured the building’s intricate brickwork. Window shutters swung back and forth in the breeze like drunks staggering down the street. She got the sergeant’s room number from the seedy clerk, made her way around the dense bushes, and knocked on his door.

After a long silence the sergeant asked from inside, “Yeah, who is it?”

“Sarge, it’s Greer. Came by to check on you.”

The door opened only a crack and Sergeant Fluharty peered out. “Come on in.” When she crossed the threshold, Fluharty secured a weapon in the waistband of his pants. “I was making a cup of coffee. Want one?”

“No, thanks, I’ve had my quota for the day.”

He shoveled sugar into his cup and added a liquid concoction that looked more like motor oil than coffee. He was pale and drawn, his short hair scraggly, and several days’ growth of stubble covered his face. It looked like he’d aged years since she’d seen him in the hospital.

“Are you feeling all right?”

Fluharty picked up his coffee cup and shuffled to an overstuffed chair, leaving her standing by the bed. Someone had moved the chair from its original location in front of the window and pushed it against the wall. “I think I’m having a reaction to the pain meds. It feels like I’m tripping every time I take one, then I nod off. And the pills taste bitter as shit too.”

“Call your doctor and get it straightened out or call Bessie.” Greer wasn’t sure how to approach a personal conversation with Fred Fluharty. “So, how are you?” They’d never ventured beyond the work realm. It seemed awkward. Not only was he fifteen years older, but he was also her boss. Cops didn’t cross some lines.

“My shoulder feels better, if that’s what you’re asking. If it’s not, we don’t need to go there. I’m still in this stink hole, which about sums it up.” He motioned around the room. “I can’t even answer the door without my gun.” He patted his waistband.

Greer noted the sparse surroundings: a full bed dominated the cramped space, with a single nightstand to the side. The upholstered chair Fluharty occupied was the only seat. An old coffeepot sat on a counter outside the bathroom, and rumpled clothes littered the floor. Two trash cans nearby overflowed with fast-food wrappers. The room smelled of leftovers and unwashed clothes.

She couldn’t help but contrast this setting with the home Fluharty had shared with his wife. Greer had visited them for Christmas and Fourth of July parties with JJ and Janice. The Fluharty home had been welcoming and immaculately clean, unlike this motel room that probably wouldn’t pass a health inspection. She was concerned for him and wondered how things had gotten so out of hand.

“Can I help with anything? You probably can’t do much with your arm out of commission.”

“No, thanks—and I don’t need your pity, damn it.” His tone was harsh and the look he gave her wasn’t one she was used to seeing. Perhaps the medication
was
having an adverse effect. “Tell me about the case. How’s it coming along?” His voice sounded normal again and his interest seemed genuine.

As Greer updated the sergeant she noticed his energy level start to climb. He was more attentive and animated, but kept looking toward the door and window as if expecting someone. He must have taken his pain meds and was feeling the effects. “So now I have to find this drug dealer. He could be the killer or he could be working for somebody else. Any suggestions?”

Fluharty rattled off a few locations to check for Baron Wallace, all places that were already on her list. Then they talked for thirty minutes longer about the investigation into his shooting, Tom’s death, the Saldana case in more detail, and finally her reconciliation with JJ.

The sergeant finished his coffee and placed the cup on the bedside table. “I hate to be a spoilsport, but I’m a little tired.”

Greer walked toward the door and turned to say good-bye, but Fluharty had already nodded off. She made a mental note to have Bessie prod Fluharty’s doctor to make a follow-up call and check on his condition. Something more than just his injury was wrong. She locked the door behind her and headed toward the part of town that drug dealers and users considered heaven.

The warehouse district was still the best place in town to score. Though a small town, New Hope had the big-city drug feel. Even its nickname, No Hope, had roots in the drug trade. The redevelopment commission was making some progress in turning the vacant properties over to the growing film industry, but the transformation was working its way from the city center outward, so this particular stretch of buildings would be the last to change.

Greer cruised along the trash-lined back streets and stopped periodically to check the crack dens and shooting galleries for possible sources. But the revelers from last night were still sleeping it off and the day was too young for dealers. She searched for her informant, Bo, and found him restocking his shopping cart from the grocery-store Dumpster.

“Hey, what’s up, Bo? Need to earn a little extra cash today?”

Bo shot her a toothless grin and continued to scavenge the trash. “Got nothing on that reporter’s death you asked about.”

“I need to find Baron Wallace. Know where he is?”

“Can’t say that I do, but you need to catch him before he hurts somebody bad.”

The remark immediately piqued Greer’s interest. “Why, what’s he done now?”

“You didn’t hear this from me, but he’s hiding out. Changes places every day. Pays big money to flop in people’s apartments overnight. Something’s up.”

“I need this guy, Bo. Will you call me if you hear anything?” She handed him a business card with her cell number on the back, certain that he’d lost or used the others she’d given him as get-out-of-jail-free passes. Then she pulled out a twenty and slid it in his jacket.

“What’s that for? I ain’t done nothing yet.” He took the card and stuffed it in the pocket of his worn jeans.

“I know you’ll come through.” As Bo continued to forage in the Dumpster, Greer cruised the strip once more and came up empty. Sometimes the worst part about being a cop was the legwork—hour after boring hour of looking, talking, and waiting for something to happen.

*

Eva stood in front of Bessie’s kitchen window, stared at the garage, and, for the third time, dried the coffee cup she held. She’d heard Greer leave early this morning and wondered why she hadn’t stopped by for breakfast or to check in. They still hadn’t heard from her and it was midafternoon. After all, they had finally kissed the night before. Her previous behavior indicated that kissing was a very big deal. It certainly put a different slant on Eva’s world. She hadn’t slept all night wondering what this new development meant in her life.