His Partner's Wife (21 page)

Both men presented shields. "We want to talk to
you," Hugh said.

"So does my ex-wife. I don't talk to her, either."

Hugh planted a hand on the door and effortlessly prevented
it from shutting. "We hear you might know something about half a million
bucks worth of heroin that went missing."

Jens Lindmark gave an incredulous laugh. "If I did, you
think I'd tell you?"

John said musingly, "Word on the street is that nobody
knows where that shipment went. If it were to somehow get around that Jens
Lindmark does know…" He paused, shook his head. "Why, we're probably
just the first of many visitors."

"So you're dirty cops." Mouth curling, he
appraised them. "Why didn't you just say so?"

"Because we're not." Hugh's voice was hard.
"We're the honest kind."

"Then why the hell do you care what happened?" He
rubbed his chest idly, scratching in the thin blond hair. "Junkies in Seattle have shot up the damn stuff long ago."

"Maybe. Maybe not."

His brows rose. John sensed genuine startlement. "Can
we come in?"

"Oh, hell." He backed up, giving another bark of
laughter. "Why not?"

The condo was decently furnished, department-store style. He
was a flunky, not a head honcho, or he'd be living in more luxury, but clearly
he wasn't an addict himself and must be steadily employed in his chosen
profession.

He waved them to seats on a nubby brown sofa and flung
himself into a leather chair, planting bare feet on the glass-topped coffee
table. "Tell me why you want to know."

Hugh and John exchanged a glance. John said, "We have
reason to think someone is looking for that heroin."

"Someone?" Lindmark smiled unpleasantly. "A
cop."

"We don't know that."

He put his feet on the floor and sat up. "Okay, then
let me tip you off. You want a cop."

"What makes you so sure a cop was involved?"

"I was there." His shoulders twitched and he shot
to his feet. "I know cops when I see them."

The brothers' eyes met again. Not
a
cop—cops.

"Did you recognize any of them?"

"Oh, yeah." He walked jerkily to the sliding
doors, looked out, then turned, his eyes filled with sudden fear. "Damn!
That's why you're here, isn't it? You didn't know anybody survived!"

John stood. "That's not…"

Lindmark flattened himself against the glass. "I've
never talked." His Adam's apple bobbed. "I swear! I never will. You
don't have to worry about me! I'm not asking for money, I'm not asking for
anything. You've got to believe me."

Feeling a cold fury at his fellow officers sworn to uphold
the law, John said, "We weren't there. But if cops were involved, we want
to know who."

Lindmark was panting, his eyes flicking from one brother to
another. After a moment he swore. "I'm stupid! Stupid to let you in my
door."

"No. You're stupid if you don't take this chance to
tell us what you know. We arrest the dirty cops, you can quit looking over your
shoulder."

"I'm not looking. They didn't know I was there."

"Somebody did, or else why did we come knocking at your
door?"

He paced and sweated and cursed but finally saw the sense in
what John said.

"You're his partner, aren't you?" Lindmark was
still twitchy. "I remember you."

Ice formed in John's chest. "His?"

"Reed's. He was there, I knew him."

John had seen Lindmark's rap sheet. Stuart Reed had once
arrested him.

"You're sure."

"Oh, yeah!" The hand that pushed back his hair
shook. "It was night, we had just slipped into the berth with the engine
off. I noticed a rat swimming in the water. I looked up when Sanchez jumped
onto the pier with the line and these guys in black swarmed from… God. I don't
know where they came from. Just pop, pop, pop. Sanchez toppled back into the
boat." He swallowed, and a nerve ticked in one cheek. "Willis, too. I
heard they found the boat drifting later."

"Where were you?"

"In the dark on the other side of the cabin. I saw
Sanchez go down, I rolled over the gunwale and let myself down into the water.
Just as I let go, Willis's blood splattered the windshield. Some of it got in
my eye and stung." Now he did look like an addict, muscles jerking all
over. "It was a nightmare, man. A nightmare."

"How many men?" Hugh asked.

"I don't know." He sat down, then shot up
immediately, beginning a restless circle of the living room. "Three, I
think. I don't know. It happened so fast."

John injected doubt into his voice. "And yet you're
sure you can identify Detective Stuart Reed."

"I know him. It was him that shot Sanchez. The others,
I didn't get as good a look at, but they were cops. They were wearing SWAT team
uniforms."

Cops in uniform. John's roiling anger hardened into black
ice.

"It wasn't a bust that went bad?" Hugh asked.

"Hell, no! They didn't say a word. They just started
shooting." He rubbed his thighs, the tic in his cheek going like a
metronome. "If I'd been up in the bow, I'd be dead, too."

"You didn't report any of this to your bosses."

"I didn't have any bosses. This was Sanchez's baby. He
hired me. I don't know who he was working for. Shit, man, what am I going to
say? Yeah, I'm here alive and well, but your heroin is gone? You think they'd
buy that?"

John watched Lindmark closely. "You know Stuart Reed is
dead?"

"Know?" His laugh held an edge of hysteria.
"I held a party! I served champagne! Know? Oh, yeah. You can say
that."

He insisted he couldn't identify the other men in dark SWAT
team uniforms. He couldn't swear there were three. Two, he knew for sure.

"You said 'swarmed,'" Hugh reminded him.
"That sounds like more than two."

He began twitching again. "I don't know. Man, I saw
those guns and silencers and I wasn't carrying. They just came out of the night
like they were part of it. Okay. I take back 'swarmed.' They
'
materialized.'"
He
enunciated the word sarcastically. "Is that better?"

John let it go. "You swam away."

"Underwater as far as I could hold my breath. I came up
on the other side of a sailboat. Man, I never saw anything else."

"Bullshit!" John said sharply. "You can't
tell me you didn't look back, see what they were doing."

Lindmark yanked on his hair in a seemingly unconscious,
convulsive way as he exploded, "Hell, yeah, I looked! All I saw was the
boat drifting away. The engine started after a few minutes, so I guess they
were on board. I didn't swim after them, if that's what you mean."

They ran him through the story repeatedly. He wasn't sure
how many men had attacked the mooring boat. Two for sure, maybe three or even
four. Definitely SWAT team uniforms. He couldn't be shaken from his
identification of Stuart Reed, but only shook his head at the idea of
recognizing the second man from photographs.

"I saw Reed, and I'm going, 'Shit, these are cops!' I
hear this pop, pop, and Sanchez goes down. The docks aren't that well lit. I
was scared. I don't mind admitting that. But I wasn't going to hang around
asking, What color are that dude's eyes?"

Any mention of Lindmark testifying in court evoked naked
fear. He held up both hands and shook his head so violently he was in danger of
giving himself whiplash. "I'll lie, man. Somebody'd do me if I opened my
mouth like that. Maybe you arrest two guys and there were three. No. Forget
it."

His eyes wild, he was deeply regretting having let them in
by the time they left, swearing he'd lie if they sent anyone else to ask
questions.

"I wasn't there. I don't know anything."

John was behind the wheel as they pulled away from the curb.

"Scum," Hugh remarked. John grunted.

His brother let him brood for a minute before asking,
"Now what?"

"Now I don't know," John admitted. He muttered an
obscenity. "Cops. Can you believe it?"

"Happens everywhere."

"Not here." He made a disbelieving sound. "We
know everyone on the force."

"Could be Reed was the only one. He could have borrowed
the uniforms."

John wanted to believe it and didn't. The operation sounded
too smooth, almost military. Cops who'd worked together could operate that way.
No wrinkles, just
materializing.

"Whoever the partner was, he didn't get his cut."

"You think there was only one?" Hugh asked.

"Yeah. I think Lindmark wanted to believe there were
more. Two would have been enough, if they were cops. With surprise on their
side, why cut anyone else in?" He grimaced. "Why take a chance trying
to find another dirty cop?"

It was his brother's turn to grunt. Hugh was staring
straight ahead, his lean face grim. "If this partner is searching
Natalie's place, he's not looking for money. He thinks the heroin was never
sold." He glanced at John. "How long between the heist and Reed's
heart attack?"

"Uh…" John had to think. "About three
months."

"Heroin isn't the kind of thing you keep lying around
the house."

"But finding a buyer might take you a while if you have
to be extra careful. It isn't something a cop would want to be hasty
about."

"True," Hugh agreed thoughtfully. "I know the
right kind of people, but they'd laugh in my face if I suddenly announced I had
some stuff to unload. They'd figure it for a setup."

"Here's a thought. What if Stuart was stringing his partner
along, but he
had
unloaded the heroin."

"Then where in hell's the money?" his brother
asked logically.

"Safe-deposit box. Swiss bank account. Anything's
possible."

Hugh shot another, inscrutable glance at John. "You're
sure about Natalie."

John's hands tightened on the steering wheel. "I can't
believe she'd want dirty money."

"It's in her favor that Reed's been dead a year and she
hasn't changed her lifestyle," Hugh admitted. "For all we knew, he
might have had a great life insurance policy that left her a rich widow. Nobody
would have wondered."

One of the many parts of this that bothered John was the
implication for Natalie. If Stuart hadn't told her he was suddenly one hell of
a lot richer, when
had
he intended to spring it on her? What kind of lies would he
have used? Or was it possible she wasn't part of the new life he was planning?

She'd mourned him sincerely. How would she deal with the
knowledge that he was not only crooked, he'd lied to her?

"On the other hand," Hugh continued, tone musing, "a
smart widow left in her spot might just decide to let some time go by. In case
anyone was watching. She's young. She's got time."

John swore viciously. "Can that kind of talk! I'd bet
my life on her honesty."

"Would you." Hugh's gaze was unexpectedly penetrating.
"Seems to me my big bro has a crush on the lady."

"We're friends. Can't you trust a friend?" Even
John knew he didn't sound completely convincing.

"Sure. Why not? But, hey, I saw the way she flew into
your arms."

"She was scared."

"I was there. Wasn't me she was looking for."

John didn't lie to his brothers. This wasn't a good time to
start, given that he and Hugh were both obligated to take what they'd learned
to their superiors and to Internal Affairs, and he was about to ask Hugh to
ignore that duty. Not just because he thought he and Hugh would have a better
chance of flushing out the bad guy themselves, but because he knew how this
would look for Natalie.