Power (19 page)

She was dedicated. Getting the job done was her top priority. Personal relationships and kids and all that other stuff had always taken a backseat to work and the risks required to rise above mediocrity. Yes, she had climbed high and accomplished much but there had been sacrifices. No one ever pointed those out. Not even her.

Who wanted to dwell on all that?

Burnett popped up from a booth about midway across the crowded space and waved to her.

As she wove her way toward him, his attention roved down her body, lingered on her legs before making a slow path back up to her face. The simple act of a male checking out the assets of a member of the opposite sex shouldn’t have set her pulse aflutter but it did.
He
did. The suit coat and tie were gone; the top two buttons of his shirt were undone. Her heart skipped a couple of beats and her throat parched just a little. How had she kept thoughts of him at a distance for all those years only to be so totally incapable of doing so now?

What happened to the rules she had introduced just the other day?

Apparently she was having more trouble sticking to them than Burnett was.

She’d had the same trouble after that little run-in at the Publix ten years ago.

“I ordered you a Miller Lite.”

The chilled, frosty mug waited on the table for her. “Thanks.”

She pushed her bag deeper into the booth as she slid across the faux leather. Burnett reclaimed his seat opposite her and waited until she had sipped her beer before asking, “You want to see a menu?”

“A burger sounds good.” She’d skipped lunch. Well, most of it anyway. She had managed to get down a piece of artisan bread served on a tiny cutting board. Sitting across the table from Katherine Burnett and her appetite were mutually exclusive under the best of circumstances.

He snagged a waitress and placed their order, somehow remembering that she hated onions and wanted extra pickles.

When the waitress had moved on to the next table, Jess started the first round of personal interrogations before he could. “How’s Andrea?”

He stared at his beer. “She’s getting through this better than I expected.” He nodded. “She’s a strong kid.”

Considering she was putting together a tribute for Darcy Chandler and had brought that video to Jess, she would say so. The young woman was handling the loss quite admirably. “And Annette?” Jess dared. “She’s handling things reasonably well?”

He took a long pull from his beer, to buy time in her opinion. His cell lay on the table and he glanced at it before answering as if he feared it would interrupt at any second. “She’s good. Overly concerned about Andrea, I think. But otherwise, good.”

He did not want to talk about Annette and that said it all.

“How do you feel it went with Dr. Oden this morning?” he asked, changing the subject.

Like he didn’t know. “She didn’t e-mail you a report as soon as I left her office?”

Burnett braced his forearms on the table and leaned toward her. Jess somehow misplaced the ability to breathe. “Actually it was about half an hour after you left her office and she said you had no desire to complete the evaluation.”

“Perceptive lady.” Jess kicked aside the foolish tangle of emotions that had twisted around her for a second and stared right back into those deep blue eyes. “I think she gets me.”

Burnett nodded. “She says you’re arrogant, stubborn, and a possible loose cannon.” He laughed. “Of course, she had all these big words that basically meant narcissistic traits. Not to worry, though, I told her you’d been that way since you were seventeen and I had realized over the years there was no way to change you. She relented and gave you a pass.”

Few humans were lacking in the narcissism department. Everyone got at least a small dose. Maybe Jess had her share and someone else’s, too. She had no problem with a frank analysis. She was pushy, certain no one could do the job as well as she could, and demanding of those around her. But every iota of that arrogance and stubbornness was directed at finding the truth… at ferreting out and stopping evil.

“Good thing you set her straight.” Jess lifted her mug. “I guess I owe you one.” Maybe she owed Oden one for the pass. She could have dragged out the sessions just to torture Jess. God forbid that Chief Black ever got his hands on that evaluation. He already had Jess pegged a little too well.

He tapped his glass to hers. “She also said”—Burnett’s tone went all serious then—“that because you ignore all boundaries, you were among the category of cops most likely to die young. I told her I knew that, too.”

“Wow. I’m flattered the two of you see me that way.”

He leaned close again. “Don’t try your best to prove her right, Jess. That’s an order.”

She melted a little at the concern that tinged his voice. “Yes, sir.”

The smile that twitched his lips did strange things to her heart. Maybe things weren’t so off this week after all.

“Remember when we used to sneak out to the Sloss Furnaces back in the day?” He grinned, that sexy, boyish one that totally mesmerized her. “We’d climb up that rusty old ladder and sit high above all the ghostly tunnels and ruins below.”

God, she hadn’t thought of that in ages. She was glad they hadn’t torn down the old blast furnace. The whole place was now a national landmark. “It’s a miracle we didn’t break our necks.”

“But we didn’t because we had each other’s backs.”

He was right, and looking into his eyes at that moment she understood with complete certainty that aspect of their relationship hadn’t changed. He had her back. He’d covered her with Black and the media leak. He’d covered her when it came to the psych eval with Oden.

She took a deep breath and did what had to be done. “It was your mother.”

That was something else she and Burnett had always shared. The ability to anticipate each other’s needs. He needed the truth from her and she owed it to him. “Why am I not surprised?” He laughed. “Of course. She’s been all over me about the Chandler case.”

“The grandmother, Dorothy, is probably the reason. She’s convinced that Darcy’s death was not an accident. Your mother was only trying to help her friend. She asked me to look into the case. I’m certain she or Dorothy tipped off Coleman.”

He glanced around as if measuring the risk of talking further on the subject in their current setting. “Here’s the thing”—he leaned in close again—“we got nothing. You know this. The first time the husband was interviewed I would have bet my house that he was telling the truth. That bogus leak hits the news and suddenly we have a confession from him. If he’s telling the truth this time, which I have my doubts, the leak probably saved the department a lot of grief. I hate to think how embarrassed we would have been if Black had made the official announcement he’d been intending before Mayakovsky’s confession.”

“Bless your mother’s heart.” Jess flashed a fake smile. “Especially since Black, as you say, was ready to announce Chandler’s death was accidental despite several inconsistencies of which he was well aware.”

“The damned coroner ruled her death accidental, Jess.” Burnett cleared his throat and glanced around again. “There’s more to this than we know even now. But we got no place to go with our hunches.”

“Your mother isn’t the only one who came to me,” Jess admitted.

His eyebrows reared up in expectation. “How did I not know all this?”

“Both instances happened this afternoon. There hasn’t exactly been time to tell you.”

“When I confronted you in my office about the leak, you didn’t feel compelled to share then?” There was no hiding the frustration in his tone.

“I didn’t want to out your mother. She hates me already.”

He frowned. “She doesn’t hate you.”

“She called my sister fat.”

“What?”

The look on his face did her in. Jess laughed. “She did. I swear.”

He shook his head. “I apologize on her behalf. Sometimes she shocks even me.”

Jess relished a long swallow of her beer. Finally,
they
felt normal again. Or was her relief just wishful thinking? When she swiped her lips with the back of her hand, he was watching her. “What?”

“You said my mother wasn’t the only one who came to you about the Chandler case.”

“Andrea.”

His confusion was back. “Andrea talked to you about the case?”

“She brought a video she wanted me to see. It was shot at a competition last fall. In the background you can see the Russian and the Dresher woman arguing.”

“Does Andrea know why they were arguing?”

“She thinks it was about Katrina. Apparently no one wanted Katrina on the competition team because, as Andrea put it, she sucks. But then, she also admitted that most of the mothers complain whenever they think their daughters aren’t getting the proper attention. What bothered Andrea was the fact that Dresher was the last one to see Darcy Chandler alive and her daughter found the body. So when she spotted the argument while working on a tribute to Chandler, she wanted me to know about it.”

“She should have taken this to Black.”

Jess held up her hands. “That’s exactly what I said to her and to your mother. But keep in mind that Andrea is still mostly a kid. She wanted to tell someone she knew. As for Black, the only reason I didn’t tell him about any of this was because the Russian decided to confess before I had the opportunity. I was already in Black’s office to do just that.”

Burnett downed another swig of beer. “I guess we’ll just have to see how this plays out.”

“Also bear in mind that if the Russian had grabbed Chandler, there would have been bruises on her arms. This might be over, but it’s far from right.” Now seemed as good a time as any to broach the other question on fire in her brain. “Black said the demand for a speedy closure of the case came from
above
. What’s that all about?”

Burnett’s expression shut down like rush-hour traffic on I-65. “The Chandlers are a powerful family. The longer this drags on, the more the media will hound all those involved. Like the leak today.”

“Today’s leak got you a confession,” Jess reminded him. “If the husband stands by his confession, there’ll be no need for a trial. It doesn’t get any better than that if you’re on the winning team.”

So much for having each other’s back. This was one secret he didn’t care to share.

“That would seem to be the case.”

“Except,” Jess pushed, “I have my doubts as to whether any part of the Russian’s statement is true. He’s covering for someone. Maybe for the lover he claims he doesn’t have but everyone else seems to think exists. Could be true love. Or just maybe the real killer has something on him and is forcing him to confess. There are worse things than going to prison.” Jess made an oh-my-God face. “Then again, Darcy Chandler’s affair with some Birmingham who’s who could be the motive for murder. Whatever the case, we’ll never know because we’re shutting down the investigation to protect some Magic City muckety-muck.”

Expression still closed, he insisted, “You know better than that.”

“Really? I spent the last hour trying to figure out who in this city trumps a Chandler, and you know the only name that keeps coming to mind is Pratt. The mayor does have that one son who threw his hat into the senate race this year. I imagine an affair coming to light with the victim of a possible homicide would not be a good thing for the married father of two who happens to be a major force in his church and at the top of the polls in the senate race. Has anyone interviewed the would-be senator?”

The regret in Burnett’s eyes gave her the answer before he spoke. “Let it go, Jess. Black will handle this the right way. You can count on that.”

“Not a problem.” She grabbed her bag. “Thanks for the beer.”

As she scooted from the booth, he stood. “Jess, wait. You have my word that I looked into that particular situation personally. Don’t leave like this. Stay. Eat. Let me explain.”

She started to tell him that she’d lost her appetite but his cell interrupted. Jess glanced at the table where it lay shimmying and shuddering, and even without her glasses she could see the image of Annette Denton flashing on the screen.

“Looks like you already have a full agenda for the evening.”

And with that parting shot, she left. Angry at him and angrier at herself for not having better control of those damned emotions she wanted so desperately to hide.

• • •

Jess drove away from Twenty-Ninth without looking back. She wished it were dark so no one could see her flee the scene. She had been back in Birmingham just over two weeks and already she was screwing things up. It had taken her nearly eighteen years to destroy her career at the bureau. Was she on the fast track now that she had a little experience in the art of self-destruction?

She had allowed the Player case to get to her. With every fiber of her being she had been convinced that Eric Spears was the serial killer known as the Player. But she hadn’t been able to prove it. So she’d broken the rules in an attempt to get the job done. Oh, she’d had a reputation for stepping on toes and pushing hot buttons, but she’d never crossed the line.

Until Spears.

And she had failed. He’d gotten away, with no telling how many murders to his credit, not once but twice.

She turned onto Druid Hills Drive, not realizing until she made the turn that the Simmonses’ neighborhood was her destination. Jess slowed to a stop. She’d lived here for a year. Gone to school just a few streets over.

Jess made two more turns as dusk slowly sank around her, compressing the humidity and heat against her chest and making it harder to breathe. She parked across the street from the small square box that according to Gina Coleman was still her aunt’s house. The house had been white at one time. Now it was a dingy gray. The red shutters Jess remembered were gone. Probably lost to neglect and disrepair. The lawn needed a mowing. The ancient Toyota in the drive looked at least a couple of decades older than Jess’s Audi.

She’d hated this place. How could her parents die and leave her and Lily to live in this dump? At night back then Jess had lain in the bed she and Lily shared and asked herself that question over and over while her aunt entertained in the next room. Her stomach roiled even now at the memories.