Witches of Three: Charlene (7 page)

Sadie watched as the dog jumped up with its two front paws on the dashboard then hung its head out the window, tongue lolling.

“Cute,” she said and drew in another lungful of smoke before letting it out slowly.

“Give me something,” Charlie said quietly. She knew the time she could hang around without getting Sadie in trouble was just about over.

Sadie knew it, too.

“Kermit Nolan.” She sauntered away.

“Kermit?” Charlie asked quickly.

“Like the frog,” Sadie said without looking back.

A Volkswagen drew up to the curb, and its occupant motioned to Sadie. She went to talk to him and after a moment tossed her cigarette away and got inside.

Her sister barked when Charlie got back in the car. With a blink, Charlie set things to right.

“I can’t believe you did that to me,” Phil exclaimed, morphing back to her human form, her blue eyes round and indignant.

“I can’t believe you showed yourself after I told you not to,” Charlie groused.

“I’m sorry. I was curious. Did she tell you anything?”

“She gave me a name.”

“Who?” Phil asked eagerly.

“Think frog!” Charlie said, loathe to give Phil a name. If anyone could screw up what little lead she had, it would be Phil.

They drove to the other end of Lambert Street and parked, watching as people wandered out of their houses and took up occupancy on the street.

“Do all these people live here?” Phil asked, studying the scene.

“Some do, some don’t,” Charlie explained. “Some don’t like to dirty their own nest so they live somewhere else and come here for the money they can make.”

“Doesn’t exactly look like Wall Street,” Phil observed.

“There he is,” Charlie said, making a quieting motion as three men came out onto the street from a rundown, two-story apartment complex.

“Which one shot your partner?”

“The one in the middle.”

“Rough looking characters,” Phil commented as the shortest man of the three grabbed a boy riding by on his bike and slammed him up against a fence. The kid couldn’t have been older than his early teens. He looked scared and put up his hands as if to placate his assailant.

Even above the sound of the motor and air conditioner, they heard Kermit Nolan’s shouted curses. He began pummeling the boy with his fists. The kid tried to get away, but Nolan’s pals grabbed him by the arms and held him as Kermit took a stance in front of him and began punching him in the face. The attack was so sudden and vicious that the teen sagged against those holding him in place. His face was a bloody mass and still Nolan continued the beating.

“We have to stop this,” Charlie said, braking and digging in her bag for her gun, but she didn’t have it. She should call for backup, but by that time, the kid receiving the beating would be dead.

“You’re not going to try to take them on by yourself?” asked Phil.

Charlie looked at her sister and grinned. “No, I have you,” she said and blinked at Phil who turned back into the Golden Retriever. The dog barked, lolled its tongue and swished its tail.

“Some help you’ll be,” Charlie groused. She’d better choose a breed a lot more ferocious. She blinked and found herself to be a trim, streamlined Doberman Pinscher then bounded out of the car and across the street.

Kermit was too preoccupied by his new hobby of smashing faces to see her coming, but his companions did. They dropped the kid who fell to the pavement moaning, then seeing he was released, he crawled to his feet and took off down the street.

Charlie sank her teeth into Kermit’s leg and hung on, tasting blood as the skin ripped beneath her bite. Kermit howled and fell then rained blows on Charlie’s canine head. The first one hurt more than she’d expected, but she hung on, growling and shaking her head so each movement brought pain to the lowlife. Kermit’s friends stood gawking until he yelled at them. Tentatively, they approached, not sure how to handle the ferocious dog with its teeth closed around their friend’s leg.

Charlie wasn’t sure how she would handle all three, but suddenly, a flurry of golden hair appeared out of nowhere, landing full-square in the middle of one man’s back. He fell on the pavement with a shriek of terror. Phil barked loudly and went after the other man, who took one look at the slavering teeth and turned and ran. His high-pitched scream could still be heard long after he’d disappeared. Phil trotted back to her sister.

“Shoot ‘em,” Kermit yelled to the first man who’d gotten up off the cement and stood staring after his departing friend. “Shoot the bastards,” Kermit screamed again, galvanizing the man to action.

He dug into his jacket, but before he could bring out a weapon, Charlie was all over him, knocking him down and standing over him, growling and baring her teeth.

“Help me,” the man yelled.

His nose was running, and tears wet his thin cheeks. Charlie heard Kermit try to get to his feet then collapse on the broken cement. His dark curses filled the air as he dug into his own pocket.

Charlie growled a warning before locking her teeth over his wrist. She heard a snap, and Kermit screamed again. His friend, seeing the immediate threat from this demon dog was momentarily over, leaped to his feet and ran, yelling for help.

All along the street, people had rushed to see what the noise was about, but none of them came to rescue Kermit, although someone must have called the police because a siren sounded in the distance.

“We’d better go, Charlie,” Phil said, and Charlie reluctantly released Kermit’s wrist.

He wouldn’t be much of a danger now, for his wrist dangled at an odd angle as if broken. She joined her sister in flight down an alley until they found an overgrown bush and hid behind it.

“That was fun,” Phil said, changing back.

Charlie did the same. They looked up and down the alley before leaving.

“I guess we showed Kermit a thing or two about not picking on kids,” Charlie said, thoroughly satisfied with the outcome. She could still taste Kermit’s blood and turned to Phil.

“I don’t have any blood on me, do I?” Charlie asked.

“No, you look beautiful. By the way, you were amazing the way you tackled that bully.”

“You weren’t so bad yourself for a dumb blonde,” Charlie said and linked arms with her sister. “I’m glad you were here.”

“Me, too.”

They passed the place where Kermit had been attacked. An ambulance and a police car were parked nearby. Kermit lay in the street cradling his leg and arm, cursing so much he was scarcely coherent as he tried to give the policeman an account of the incident. His two friends had rejoined him and stood waving their hands as they told the cops about a band of ravenous dogs that had attacked them. Charlie and Phil exchanged amused glances.

“Are you going to tell the policeman to take him in?” Phil asked.

Charlie shook her head. “I’m not in uniform, and they’ll want to know what I was doing down here on my own. Kermit has to go to the hospital, and I’ll alert Nick he’s the one I saw shoot Geronimo.”

“Okay, want some lunch?” Phil asked.

“Yeah, something vegetarian, I’m thinking,” Charlie said, regarding Kermit’s bloody, mangled hand. “I just have to make a call to the station.”

Later, lingering over margaritas, they analyzed what had happened. Charlie had alerted a detective about the whereabouts of the man suspected of shooting a police office. She knew they wouldn’t let Kermit slip through their fingers.

“I hope he doesn’t weasel out of what he did,” she said morosely.

“How can he? You’re an eyewitness, and you can identify him as the one who shot your partner,” Phil pointed out. “That has to count for something even in the convoluted world of police investigations.”

“You’re right,” Charlie conceded. “I think I’ll go down to the station and talk to Nick about it after I go by the hospital.”

“Speaking of Nick…” Phil seized the moment to bring the conversation around to the real reason she’d likely sought out her sister.

“Let’s not,” Charlie said, and Phil looked at her in surprise.

“Oh, you must have it bad, not to want to talk about him.”

“It’s just that this is personal, and I want to keep it that way. You understand, don’t you?”

Phil studied her face and reluctantly nodded. “Yeah, I do. Good luck.”

“Thanks.” She looked around for the waitress. “This one’s on me for all the help you gave.”

With Phil headed back to pick up her stepdaughter from school, Charlie was free to go to the hospital. Geronimo was awake, although still drowsy.

“Hey, partner,” Charlie said, leaning over his bed. “I’m glad to see you’re still with us.”

“Can’t get rid of me that easily,” he mumbled then turned his dark Latin gaze on her. “I don’t know why they shot me. I wasn’t pressing them.”

“Don’t worry about it now,” Charlie said. “Just concentrate on getting well then we’ll go after the bastards.”

He nodded and closed his eyes. She guessed he was asleep before she left the room.

Back at the station, bedlam seemed to have erupted.

“What’s up?” she asked Sam Turner.

“It’s been a madhouse all morning,” he said. “A case of domestic violence turned to murder. She done him in. Apparently, they were close to the Mayor, and there’s hell to pay if she doesn’t get treated with kid gloves. Then there were a couple of robberies across town from each other, and even a dog attack, which has citizens on Lambert Street up in arms. The media got involved on that one, and city hall is screaming its head off at us, like we can control every wild animal attack. The little prick who got bit has a broken wrist and a mangled leg. He’s going to be on crutches for a while.”

At that moment, Nick walked by and, seeing Charlie, paused.

“I thought you were supposed to stay home today, Spencer,” he said brusquely, his gaze stern.

She felt her heart turn over. Even now when he was annoyed with her, she wanted to throw her arms around him. She straightened her shoulders and assumed a professional air.

“Yes, sir, I was, but I had some errands to run and thought I’d just stop by.”

“Once a cop, always a cop,” Sam said. “Besides, we could use her, Captain. We’re shorthanded today.”

“I’d like to get back to work,” Charlie said quickly, grateful for Sam’s intercession.

Nick studied her face, and she wondered if she looked capable enough to convince him. Besides, she didn’t like being treated as if she would break apart at the first sign of trouble.

“All right, Spencer,” he said. “But work in the station. No street duty for the day.”

In her elation, she almost saluted then decided not to push her luck. Nick glared at her and stalked away.

“Oh, sir, I need to talk to you about something,” she called after him.

He paused in a long stride and turned to look at her. “Fifteen minutes,” he said and left without waiting for her response.

Everything about him, from his stern demeanor to his stiff shoulders said he was perturbed with her. Well, so be it. That would probably happen a lot in their relationship, especially if he didn’t drop the helpless female image he had of her. She wondered how he would react when she told him she was a witch. She pushed that chore aside for the moment. Plenty of time for that later. Her own irritation with Nick had passed by the time she headed to his office.

“Sit down, Officer Spencer,” he said, waving toward the straight-backed chair in front of his desk. He sat down as well and looked at her. “What is this about?”

“Well, I found out the name of the man who shot Geronimo,” she said, getting straight to the point.

He looked surprised then his lips tightened. “How did you do that?”

“I have an informant down on Lambert Street. She said she saw the shooting, and she recognized the man who did it. A Mr. Kermit Nolan, if you can believe the name.”

Nick sat back, blinking as he stared at her, then he swept through the papers on his desk, drew out one and read it before looking back at her.

“Were you down on Lambert Street this morning?” he asked sternly.

“Yes, I was. That’s where my informant works.”

“On Lambert Street?”

“Yes, sir,” she answered formally. “And before you ask, I saw the dog attack on Nolan.”

“Were you the one who called in the tip?” His gaze was so piercing that she didn’t know what to say. Certainly, not the truth, at least not all the truth. Not yet.

“Yes, sir, I did,” she said, then to distract him, hurried on with another question. “Did they get his gun to check with ballistics?”

“No guns were found.”

“The bastards. They must have ditched them before the police got there.”

“Without evidence, we won’t have a lot to hold him on.”

“You have eyewitnesses,” Charlie reminded him. “I was there, I saw him shoot Geronimo. There was no provocation or anything. He just pulled out his gun and shot him.”

“I’ll assign a man to stand guard at the hospital, and when they’ve patched him up, we’ll put him in a lineup.”

“In the meantime, he won’t be able to shoot anyone again soon,” Charlie spoke unthinkingly. “His shooting arm’s out of commission.”

“How do you know that?” Nick asked, looking at her in surprise.

“It just stands to reason,” Charlie said quickly, trying to cover her error. “He would automatically use his dominant hand to protect himself, wouldn’t he?”

Nick stared at her, and she sensed he wasn’t buying her noninvolvement. “Charlie, watch your back. You’re a witness, and he could come after you to keep you quiet.”

“I’m aware of that, sir,” she said. “I’ll be careful.”

“I don’t want you to discuss this with anyone outside this department,” he said. “It might put your life in danger. I’ll have Kermit brought in and put in a lineup. We’ll bring in your informant to make an identification as well.”

“You know you can’t do that. Her life would be put in danger.”

“We’ll keep it quiet, and no one will see her in the witness room.”

“Word would leak back out on the streets, Nick. She has two kids and an invalid mother dependent on her.” She raised her chin. “I won’t give you her name. I won’t risk her life like that. Besides, my identification should be enough.”