Bring the Heat (4 page)

“I've got it.”

Backing up, Chris delivered several solid kicks to the wood, close to the knob and the frame. It didn't take long before a crack sounded and the door gave way, banging against the inside wall. The trio spilled inside, calling Austin's name.

Utter devastation greeted them. The house was a complete disaster. Dust coated every surface, as did piles of mail. Trash and liquor bottles were strewn everywhere, and the air was stale. Heavy with despair.

In the middle of it all, lying on his side next to the coffee table, was Austin.

“Oh no.”

Laura rushed over to him and dropped to her knees.
She gently turned him onto his back, noting his grayish pallor, blue lips. A gash on his right arm had bled profusely, soaking the carpet and his shirt. From the location of the cut, she could tell it wasn't self-inflicted, but that was cold comfort.

Taking his wrist, she checked his pulse and found it to be almost nonexistent. Stomach lurching, she looked up at her companions, but Shane was already on the phone calling an ambulance. Chris knelt on his captain's other side.

“Is there anything I can do?” he asked.

“Not at the moment.”

“His pulse?”

“It's bad,” she said softly, not letting go of Austin's wrist. Gazing into the man's handsome face, she felt a wave of sadness go through her like a cold wind. “Oh, honey, what have you done to yourself?”

“Just about drank himself to death, looks like,” Shane said, putting away the phone. He appeared as anguished as she and Chris. “Hang on, Cap. Help is coming.”

His pulse was so weak and thready by the time the paramedics arrived, Laura was almost certain they'd have to perform CPR before they got him to Sterling Hospital. She recognized the crew from Station Five, however, and knew he was in the best possible hands.

They started an IV right away, and Zack Knight said, “The captain's lost a lot of blood through that gash, but that's not our biggest concern right now. If he drank even a fraction of all this, we're looking at acute alcohol poisoning.”

“Does he have any medical conditions any of you are aware of?” Eve Tanner, Zack's partner, asked.

Shane spoke up. “Nothing physical, except exhaustion. He's been depressed, though. His estranged wife and unborn son were murdered, and he just buried them a couple of days ago.”

Zack's mouth flattened into a thin line as they prepped him to be moved. “I saw that on the news, and I was so sorry to hear about it. I hope they catch the sick bastard who did it.”

“Me, too,” Eve put in grimly. “Let's get our patient rolling.”

They got Austin on a gurney, strapped him in, and hurried out with him as quickly as possible. Laura and the detectives stepped out onto the front porch to watch them load their patient.

“I'll stay behind and fix the door,” Chris offered. “Then I'm going to get a head start on cleaning up that shithole in there. No way does he need to come home to that mess. You two go ahead to the hospital if you want.”

Laura rubbed her arms to ward off the sudden chill. “I'm definitely going. I won't rest until I know he's out of the woods.”

“Same.” Shane clapped his cousin on the shoulder, then turned to Laura. “Need a ride?”

She thought about it. “That's okay. I'll take my car. Thank you for the offer, though. Once we find out he's recovering, I'll come back and help Chris.”

“Sounds good,” Shane said. “I'll stay with Austin.”

She
wanted to be the one to stay with the captain,
but could hardly say so. They didn't know each other that well, and these men were his close friends. They got to be near him every day, in a way she might never be.

Well, she intended to work on their friendship, so the man had to survive.

She wasn't going to accept any other
outcome.

The waiting room was packed with cops.

The wait itself? Never ending.

Laura was about to crawl out of her skin, so she could only imagine how Austin's friends and colleagues felt. When his parents showed up, the older couple was whisked away to a private room to speak with the doctor, and frustration was evident in the sea of anxious faces. The guys knew what had happened only in a basic sense.

Laura, Chris, and Shane had told only Danny, Tonio, and Taylor the truth. The others had a pretty good guess as to what had gone down when they learned the captain was found unresponsive at home. When someone suggested a suicide attempt, Austin's closest friends were quick to squelch that rumor before it got started.

Anyway, she refused to believe that was true. Depression and pain had led him to drink far too much. But there was no way such a vital man had set out to take his own life.

From down the hallway, Mr. and Mrs. Rainey appeared, and the group snapped to attention. Mr. Rainey had his arm around his wife, whose eyes were red from
crying. Mr. Rainey himself appeared pale and shaken, and twice as old as when he'd arrived. They shuffled toward everyone until finally stopping, visibly collecting themselves. The crowd gathered into a tight knot to listen to what they had to say.

Mr. Rainey was a tall man with graying auburn hair, and it was easy to see Austin in his father. He did the speaking in a strong but quiet voice. “Thank you all for being here. It means a lot to me and my wife.” She let out a little sob and he squeezed her tightly before continuing.

“Our son is fighting for his life right now. He's suffering from alcohol poisoning and the next few hours are critical.”

“Any prayers you can say would be welcome,” his mother said, dabbing at her eyes. “He's been through so much.”

Mr. Rainey took a deep breath. “We'll keep you informed, but if you could keep this in the family, so to speak, we'd appreciate it. Thanks again for your support.”

Overwhelmed, the couple couldn't say more. They turned and went back in the direction from which they'd come. As they left, a nurse informed the others that visitors were restricted to family only for the time being, which was disappointing but not unexpected.

“I'll stay in case anything changes or the Raineys need anything,” Shane said. “The rest of you can go home for now.”

There was some grumbling, and cops started drifting out reluctantly. They all wanted to do something
for the captain, but there just wasn't anything to be done at the moment that wasn't already being handled. That time would come later, when he recovered.

“I'm going to head back to his house and help Chris finish cleaning,” Laura said to Shane. “Let me know if anything changes.”

“Will do.”

Suddenly she found herself enveloped in a hug from the handsome detective, followed by Tonio and Taylor, which was nice. Really nice. In her line of work, she didn't often get the chance to bond with people. She wished it hadn't taken several tragedies to bring her closer to these wonderful guys.

Once back at Austin's house, she knocked on the newly repaired door. It opened after a few seconds and Chris let her in with a half smile.

“You sure you want to help me tackle this?”

“Absolutely. Where should I start?” She noted that he'd made progress on the living room. Bags of trash were bundled and sitting around the room, and he'd started dusting the furniture.

“The kitchen. Believe me, you'll be sorry you volunteered.” Chris paused, grabbed his dust rag and the can of furniture polish. “Shane called. He said Austin's in rough shape.”

“Yeah. He's critical.”

Chris stilled, staring into space. “I never should've let him talk us into leaving. I shouldn't have left him alone.”

“Hey, you didn't know this would happen,” she said, touching his arm. “Nobody did. He's normally
such a strong man, but it leveled him, losing his family that way, especially the baby.”

The detective shook himself from his gloom. “I know. All we can do now is make sure this place is welcoming when he gets back. Say, maybe you could give it a woman's touch? Sure looks like it could use some sprucing up.”

Arching a brow, she put a hand on her hip. “Do I look like I spend my days decorating?”

“Oh, well, I—I didn't mean to sound sexist or anything—”

“Relax. I was just teasing.” She winked. “Some flowers or something would be nice. Maybe a rug or three, and some pictures.”

“Yeah,” he said, clearly relieved. “Thanks.”

Working together, they threw themselves into making Austin's home a space he could relax in, rather than a prison.

She just hoped with all her heart that he'd get to see it.

•   •   •

Consciousness returned slowly.

At first he wasn't sure where he was. Whether he was dead or simply drifting in some nebulous fog of alternate reality. But when he heard familiar voices talking, discussing his situation, heard his mother crying, he knew.

And he was ashamed.

Even though he couldn't move a muscle, or speak, he was aware enough to realize he'd been in real trouble. He'd caused the people he loved the most to feel
pain, and that was something he would never wish to inflict on anyone.

“Austin? Baby, wake up, please,” his mother entreated.

If he could've managed a smile, he would have. Forty-two and his mother still called him
baby
. His dad said something, and their voices faded in and out for a while. He drifted, dozing, and the next time he surfaced, he put more effort into opening his eyes.

At last he managed to crack them a bit, blinking against the sunlight in the room. God, his head was pounding. When his vision focused, he saw his dad sitting in a chair, staring at the silent television on the wall. Next to him, his mom was flipping through a magazine, not really reading it.

“Hey,” he croaked. Both of his parents started and the joy on their faces, not to mention the exhaustion, tore at Austin's soul. Rushing over, his mom took his hand and peppered his face with kisses, smoothed back his hair.

“Oh, honey, we were so worried. Thank God you're awake.”

She started to cry, and he awkwardly patted her back, though the IV and bandage on his arm restricted his movement. “I'm okay, Mom.”

“You almost died, Austin.” Pulling back, she gazed at him, tears running down her still pretty face. “This is the second time in less than a year we've almost lost you. My heart can't take any more of this.”

Guilt nearly ripped him in half. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean for this to happen.”

His dad scooted up his mom's chair for her, urging her to sit. Then he moved his own seat closer and put his hand on Austin's shoulder. “We know you didn't, son. Losing Ashley and the baby like that, it was too much. Hell, it would be too much for any man to handle, and we never should've left. Not so soon, anyhow.”

He shook his head, and regretted it. The room spun for a few seconds and he waited for things to settle before answering. “No. I should've been stronger. I never should've let a drop of booze touch my lips when I was so raw and grieving. Once I started, I couldn't seem to stop.”

His mom's lip quivered. “So you didn't mean to hurt yourself?”

“No,” he said firmly. “No way. I'm
not
suicidal. I'm grieving, maybe even depressed, but I don't want to die. I want to find the scum who killed Ashley and my son and put him away for good.”

His dad peered deep into his eyes for several long moments, and finally nodded in satisfaction. “I believe you, and I believe
in
you. You've got a whole lot of friends who do as well.”

Austin swallowed hard. “Everyone knows?”

“Pretty much. Your buddies at the station have circled the wagons, refused to give a statement to the media on your personal situation. A couple of them even cleaned your house.”

Shame warred with gratitude. Right now it was a draw as to which feeling was stronger. “I'll thank them when I get out of here.”

“Oh, they're not going to wait that long to see you, trust me.” His dad's mouth curved upward in a small smile. “They don't want any thanks, though—just for you to get better.”

“A woman has come by a couple of times hoping to see you,” his mother said, studying him closely. “Striking lady, long dark hair. Says her name is Laura.”

Ah. A fishing expedition. He gave his mom a smile. “Laura Eden. Our paths cross through work, and she's a friend of sorts.”

“Really? I like her. She's very nice.”

“Yes, she is.” He didn't want to give his mom more fuel, and really there wasn't more to tell. Except Laura's job, and he might as well be straight with them. “She's the medical examiner who works out of Nashville. Her office covers our county because we don't have one of our own.”

It didn't take long for them to put two and two together. His dad spoke first. “So she's working with your detectives on trying to catch who killed Ashley and the baby?”

“Yes, as well as another case we have.” He was
not
going to mention the auburn-haired victim from the other day—the one with the note that was likely addressed to Austin himself.

“I hope she helps to catch that animal,” his mom spat. Then she stopped, took a deep, calming breath.
“I'm sorry. You don't need to think about anything but getting better. I'm glad she's a friend.”

“She is.” Just then there was a knock on the door. Austin sat up a bit, half expecting the visitor to be the subject of their conversation. So he was more than a little disappointed to see the chief walk into the room.

“Austin, it's good to see you awake.” Glenn strolled over to the bed, held out his hand.

Austin shook the offered hand as best as he could. “Thanks.”

His mom kissed his cheek and stood. “We're going to head out for a while, find a bite to eat. See you later, honey. Love you.”

“Love you, too, Mom.”

After clapping his shoulder, his dad followed her out. Austin watched them go, dreading this talk. He wished they had sent the chief away, anything to put off what he sensed was coming. Then again, might as well get it over with.

“How are you feeling?” Glenn asked.

“Go ahead and say what you came here to say,” he snapped. “Don't insult my intelligence by beating around the bush.”

Glenn stared at him, looking hurt. “Don't insult me by implying I don't care. I may be your boss, but we're friends and I have a great deal of respect for you.”

That took the wind out of his sails and he sank into the pillows, closing his eyes. When he opened them again, the chief was simply waiting. “My apologies. I didn't mean to disrespect you, I'm just on edge.”

“Anyone would be, after what you've been through.” Glenn paused, face filled with sympathy. “Austin, you need time off.”

“I knew that was coming. Especially after this,” he said, indicating his current predicament.

“Yeah. I was going to suggest it anyway, with what happened to your family. And with you being too close to the case, there's just no way I can allow you to work it.”

Officially
. Unofficially, the chief wasn't going to stop him. Nobody would.

“Sure, I get it.”
Say all the right things and he'll go away
.

“Take a month off and we'll reevaluate, see how you feel—”

“A
month
? I was thinking a couple of weeks.” A ball of dread began to form in the pit of his stomach.

“Four. Get your head together—you've been through a lot.”

“Is that an order?”

“If you want to put it that way, yes.”

“What else is going on here, Glenn? The truth.”

Sitting back in his chair, the chief met his gaze without flinching. “You're not an official suspect in Ashley's murder, but there's some circumstantial evidence that makes you someone we need to rule out.”

Knowing that didn't make it easier to hear, and the dread became an iron weight around his neck. “What kind of evidence?”

“There was a hair found on your wife's body that DNA will probably show belongs to you. But hell, you
lived in that house with her for years, so your DNA is all over that place.”

“What else?”

“Your belt was used to strangle her,” Glenn said grimly. “There were a couple of fingerprints on it. One of them matched your right index finger. However, it wasn't in the right hand position for the action of strangling her.”

He wanted to be sick. “And the other print?”

“Unknown. That's the one we believe actually belongs to the assailant, but we need a damn suspect.” Glenn paused. “You want to do something useful, come up with a list of anyone who might hold a grudge against you. Someone you've put away in the last few years who just got out of the joint is a good place to start.”

A bitter laugh escaped Austin's throat. “That'll take some time.”

“Well, you've got plenty.”

Austin glared at his boss, to no effect. “How much of my vacation has to do with the department saving face with the press?”

Glenn sighed. “I'm not going to lie—they somehow got wind of your breakdown, or whatever, and the speculation is rampant. They're straddling the line between accusing you of Ashley's murder and your being a victim. You know how horrible the media has been toward cops lately, and this is a potential disaster.”

“I'm innocent, Glenn,” he stated, anger boiling under his skin. “You know that.”

“I do. We just need to let this die down before it
takes on a life of its own and you end up being tried and convicted on the ten o'clock news. Okay?”

“I hear you.”

Fuck!
More than twenty years as a cop, and now someone was trying to destroy his life. He wasn't going to give the murdering bastard more rope to hang him.