The Negotiator (4 page)

She looked at the gurney that was wheeled in with suspicion. “Stephen, I’m walking out of here.”

“If you want to pass out in front of your team, you can. Your blood pressure is low even for you.”

“Fading adrenaline. Give me a break.”

He accepted something from his partner. “Close your eyes; you don’t like needles.”

“Stick me with that and you’ll be fixing your own steak tonight.”

“Would you rather me do it or a nurse you don’t know?”

“You play dirty.” She turned her head and squeezed her eyes closed.

“It’s done.” He taped down the IV line. “You want a grape or cherry lollipop?”

She considered hitting him. She plucked a cherry one from his pocket. “You know the only reason I let you get away with the needle is so I can get one of these.”

“Jennifer bribes her patients with them.”

“Her patients are two years old. I don’t like the inference.”

“You’re the one who made it.”

She retrieved the grape one and handed it to Dave. “Eat this and be quiet.” She had heard his stifled chuckle.

“Stephen,” Dave interceded as he unwrapped the sucker, “you’d better quit while you’re ahead.”

Her brother looked over at him. “Probably. Would you?”

Dave considered the question for a moment. “No. She’s too cute when she’s annoyed.”

“I knew I would like you.”

Kate scowled. “Gentlemen, now that you’ve bonded, can we go?”

“Sure. But you’re taking the gurney.” Stephen moved it beside her and grinned. “Just sit on it, Kate. I won’t make you go out with the straps and the blanket.”

She knew it was going to be a rough afternoon when getting up to move to the stretcher made her light-headed. Dave didn’t release his grip on her arm until she was seated and her legs were up.

She saw his concern despite their lighthearted banter, and it bothered her. She didn’t want his final impression of her to be one of weakness. It wasn’t pride; it was the reality of her job. Managing impressions was critical to keeping her reputation intact—a reputation that insured her voice carried weight when she was called into a crisis situation. If the consensus about her around the FBI offices six months from now was
got hurt
rather than
solved it,
the next time she worked a case with them she would be playing from a weak hand.

Stephen squeezed her hand. She returned the pressure. She knew what he had been doing, the cad. He’d raised her blood sugar level, got an IV line in place, stopped the bleeding, and kept her mind off what he and his partner were doing. He had always been excellent at his job. Stephen was born to the role of rescuer.

There were days she would give anything to trade in her role of negotiator for something more along Stephen’s role of white knight. She had to live and work with gray, in the middle of the violence, right at the edge of the grim reaper’s hand of death. Getting banged up occasionally in the process just went with her territory.

“Dave, there’s room if you want to ride along,” Stephen offered.

“I’ll take it.”

“There’s no need,” Kate protested, not liking the idea.

Dave’s frown silenced her. Having been silenced by a look from some of the best, she changed her profile of him, privately amused. He could simply cool his eyes to convey he didn’t like your answer as easily as he could warm them to share humor. It was a trait a good leader perfected.

“Kate, the media is all over this. Be prepared.” Stephen warned.

The media would likely make her life miserable for days to come. The two newspapers, not to mention the local newscasts, vied with each other for the most dramatic presentation of a crisis like this. Ignoring the press was becoming her second occupation. “Let’s see how many pictures they can take of your back,” she suggested to Stephen. That solution to the problem was one of her favorites.

“My pleasure. The squad will love the publicity.”

“This is not a steak.” Kate used the plastic fork to check the suspicious entree. It was bad enough she had lost the debate and been admitted to the hospital for the night; meatloaf for dinner was adding insult to injury.

Stephen got to his feet. “Want me to go get you a cheeseburger?”

“Make it two and a vanilla shake.”

“Eat your salad.”

She poked at the limp lettuce. “It’s dead.” She reached for the sealed pudding cup. “At least they can’t ruin dessert.”

Stephen tweaked her foot. “I’ll be back shortly. Behave yourself while I’m gone.”

“You want good behavior, too?” She grinned. “You’re pushing it, Stephen. You already overruled me on staying here for the night.”

“I managed to stop the family from descending on you, so we’re even.”

She opened the pudding cup. “It’s a brief reprieve and you know it,” she countered. “Sunday’s dinner is going to be interesting. I sure hope Jennifer has earth-shaking news to share or I’m going to be toast.”

Stephen laughed. “You walked into it. I’ll head the family off for a few days, but after that you’re on your own.” They had been calling from the moment she reached the hospital.

“I hate being the center of attention.”

“Next time don’t get hurt.”

She couldn’t exactly argue that point.

There was a tap on the door. “May I come in?”

“Hi, Dave. Sure.” Kate pushed away the tray. “Stephen’s smuggling in real food. You want something?”

Stephen paused by the door as he reached Dave. “Cheeseburger, Polish, chili? I’m heading across the street.”

“A Polish with the works would be great.”

Stephen nodded. “I’ll be back in a few minutes. She’s getting feisty, so watch yourself.”

“Thanks a lot, Stephen.” Kate settled back on the pillows and watched Dave take a seat. He looked tired. She wasn’t surprised. It was after 7
P.M.
, and his afternoon must have been much like hers, full of doctors and official statements. She hadn’t seen him since she had entered the ER and the medical community had surrounded her.

He stretched his legs out. “You look better than I expected.”

“Feisty.” She shook her head. “Stephen needs to work on his adjectives.”

“I don’t know. It fits,” he replied easily, taking Stephen’s side, probably just because he could. He glanced around at all the flowers. “It looks like you have had some company.”

Kate looked at the bouquets, embarrassed at all the attention they represented. “I was just doing my job. You would think I got shot or something.”

“The cops like you. It’s not like they can bring flowers when one of the guys gets hurt.”

“Your sister sent me a bouquet—the orchids.”

“Did she?” Dave grinned. “You mean she limited it just to flowers? I was afraid she was going to drown you in gifts, she was so relieved to get my phone call.”

“This is so embarrassing. I even got flowers from the owner of the bank.”

Dave looked over the arrangements. “Which one?”

“Care to guess?”

He thought about it. “Zealous mortgage management. Rather stale donuts for 9
A.M.
We have an owner who doesn’t like to spend his money on others. The wildflower bouquet.”

“You’re good.”

“I’m right?” He got up to retrieve the card and grinned as he read it. “Nathan Young. Owner, First Union Bank.”

He put down the card, gestured to the two dozen red roses. “Who’s your beau?”

She wondered if it was his British side that made the abrupt question come out sounding so stiff. Or was he just irked? She buried the smile fighting to be released. “Marcus. Check out the card.”

He hesitated.

“Go ahead. You’ll appreciate it.”

“‘Lecture to come, Ladybug’.” He tapped the card. “Sounds like family.”

He did sound relieved. Kate stored that pleasure away to enjoy later. She didn’t want him to be interested in her, but she had to admit it felt good to know he was. “Oldest brother. And no, I don’t want to explain the nickname.” The roses were just like Marcus. Extravagant. Unnecessary. Wonderfully sweet. He knew her too well. She would look at them all night and know if he was not a thousand miles away, he would be sprawled in that chair for the night. The friendship went so deep she wondered at times if Marcus could read her mind. Today had shaken her up more than she cared to admit.

Dave settled back in the chair and stretched his legs out. “You’ve got a great family.”

“Yes, I do.” It was a subject that could make her sappy when she was tired. “I heard a rumor it’s your birthday today.”

“I couldn’t think of a nicer person to spend it with.”

She couldn’t prevent the smile. He was smooth. “Seriously, I’m sorry your plans for the day got so messed up.”

He shrugged. “I’m alive to enjoy it, mainly thanks to you. Have they told you how long you will be here?”

“I’ve been promised I can leave tomorrow morning.” She held up the hand with the I V. “The antibiotics will be done in another hour; the doctors are just being cautious. All that glass was covered with flash grenade residue.”

“How often do days like this happen?”

Why did he want to know? Concern was nice; worry was another way of smothering. She gave him the benefit of the doubt for now. “Days when you wonder if you will walk away in one piece?”

“Something like that.”

“Nothing is routine, but every couple months there’s a case like this one that tests the edge.”

“That often?”

Definitely a frown. She sighed. Next he was going to be critiquing how she did her job. She couldn’t prevent it from being dangerous, but someone had to do it. “In the decade I’ve been doing this, I’ve seen it change for the worse. People choose violence as their first course of action these days.”

The door pushed open as Stephen backed in, carrying a sack and a cardboard container holding three drinks, rescuing her from telling Dave,
Thank you, but I know how to do my job.
Stephen sat on the edge of the bed and distributed the food. “Two cheeseburgers, Kate. I loaded them with hot stuff for you.”

“This is great. Thanks.” Her interrupted breakfast had been a long time ago. She listened to the guys talk while she focused on her dinner.

Stephen caught her in a yawn as she finished the second sandwich. “Ready to call it a day?”

Stiff, sore, and feeling every minute of the very long day, she reluctantly admitted the obvious. “Getting there. Are you picking me up tomorrow morning?”

“Ten o’clock, unless you page me earlier,” he confirmed.

“Make it nine.”

“Okay, nine.”

She wasn’t sure what to say to Dave. She wasn’t interested in saying good-bye and yet to suggest something else…this was awkward. “Thanks for your help today.”

She held still as his hand brushed down her cheek, and she saw her surprise briefly reflected on his own face. Clearly he hadn’t thought before he made the gesture, had startled himself as much as her. It was nice to know she wasn’t the only one feeling off balance at the moment. They were work acquaintances, and yet it kept jumping across to something more personal.

She had little experience deciphering the emotions reflected in his blue eyes; gentleness wasn’t common in her world.

“It was my pleasure. Maybe next time we can meet by simply saying hello?” Dave said softly.

“I would like that.”

His eyes held hers, searching for something. When he moved his hand to his back pocket and broke eye contact to look at his wallet, she blinked at the abrupt loss she felt. “Good. Give me a call, let me know how you’re doing.” He put a business card by the phone. “My cellular phone number is on the back.”

Kate nodded, well aware of Stephen’s speculation. “Good night, guys.”

The FBI regional offices were on the eighteenth floor of the east tower in the business complex. Dave tossed his keys on his desk and went to brew a pot of coffee. It was 8:45
P.M.
He had some questions regarding Henry Lott that needed answers. He was too on edge to consider going home.

There was such a contradiction in Kate. Who was the real Kate—the cop who had been coolly assessing the situation, prepared if necessary to call for a sniper shot? Or the woman who had been defusing the situation with her chatter—who liked pepperoni pizza, her steak cooked to just a hint of pink, mystery novels, basketball, marathon races, and chocolate chip ice cream?

The two images didn’t mix.

He stirred sugar into his coffee and half smiled. He liked her. Despite the contradiction, he really liked her. She could keep her sense of humor in a crisis.

She was going to be hard to get to really know. One moment she was open and easy to read, the next impossible to fathom. Given the nature of her job, he should have expected that. He had crossed a line in those last few moments at the hospital, sensing an unexpected loneliness in her, wanting to comfort and not knowing how to reach her with words. He owed her. He couldn’t dismiss that fact even if it did annoy her when he expressed it.

At least they had both come out of the day relatively unhurt. He touched his split lip and grimaced. It stung—he could only imagine what she must be feeling about now. He walked back to his office, set down his coffee cup, and turned on his desk lamp.

It didn’t take a name on the door for the office to be recognizable as his. He liked a clear desk, organized files, large white boards, and space to pace and think. The whimsical sketches on the wall, done by his sister, were worth a minor fortune. A signed football from his brother-in-law was under glass on the credenza.

He did not appreciate almost getting killed on his thirty-seventh birthday. The situation had scared his sister. Sara, having been stalked for years by a man trying to kill her, had already taken enough scares in her lifetime. He wanted a few questions answered. He would start with Henry Lott’s former employer, Wilshire Construction, then take a look at First Union Bank.

Night had descended. The shadows around the hospital room had finally disappeared into true darkness. Kate preferred the night over dusk. There was a little more truth in the darkness; it at least didn’t pretend to hide danger. She reached over and turned on the bedside light.

It was after ten. Her shoulder ached. She was tired of staring at the ceiling. Fatigue had crossed into the zone where it now denied sleep. Normally after a crisis, she would go shoot baskets for a while, bleed off the stress. Denied the release, it was hard to settle for the night.