ONE SMALL VICTORY (22 page)

“It’s Steve. Can you come to the station
tomorrow night?”

“What’s up?”

“Can’t talk about it right now. Can you make
it?”

“Sure. What time?”

“About eight.”

After making arrangements for Steve to meet
her at the back entrance of the station tomorrow, Jenny hung up and
went to the kitchen to figure out something good for dinner. She
dug through the freezer and found a container of spaghetti sauce
hiding behind frozen packages of indeterminate ages.

She put the sauce in the microwave to defrost
and started water to boil for pasta. Then she pulled out the
makings for salad. Since she was staying home tonight, they could
have a nice dinner and talk about what to do for Christmas.

That plan barely stayed in place through the
main course, then Scott said he’d already made plans with Caitlin
for that evening. “You told me yesterday that you were staying home
tonight. So I figured it was my turn to go out.”

Jenny sighed. “I was hoping we could make
plans for Christmas.”

“You can plan without me. Just like you did
at Thanksgiving.”

This was said with an air of defiance, and
Jenny clamped her mouth tight to keep from reacting. Alicia was
looking at both of them with that “deer in the headlights”
expression that was becoming all too familiar.

“Fine,” Jenny said, forcing a smile. “Alicia
and I will figure something out.”

“Whatever.” Scott pushed his chair out and
stood up.

Any smidgen of Christmas Spirit Jenny might
have had walked out the door with Scott, but for Alicia’s sake, she
made an effort.

~*~

Caitlin glanced at her watch in the soft
yellow glow of the porch light. “It’s late. I should get in before
Dad comes out to get me.”

“Would he really?” Scott asked.

“No, Silly. It was a joke.”

Scott glanced off into the darkness beyond
the ring of light and she touched his arm. “What’s wrong?”

He sighed instead of answering. What could he
say? It was always the same old shit, and she was probably tired of
hearing it. That’s why he hadn’t said much about how he’d been
feeling since Michael’s birthday as they’d walked up to the park
and back. But, God! Sometimes he just wanted to scream.

“Is it that deal with your mom? Maybe I could
work something out. Help you get away to see what she’s up to.”

“That’s okay. I’m not sure I even care any
more.”

“Of course you care.”

“Don’t tell me how I feel. You don’t know how
I feel.”

The minute the words were out, Scott wished
he could take them back. Caitlin shifted away from him, that same
look of intense hurt on her face he’d seen that day at the mall. He
reached out to touch her. “I’m sorry.”

She brushed his hand away. “Sorry doesn’t cut
it. I am so tired of your anger.”

Scott shoved his hands in his jacket pockets
to keep from hitting something. He’d never consider hitting her,
but that tree looked mighty tempting.

“Maybe it would be best if I just left for a
while.”

“What do you mean?”

He took a quick glance at her, then looked
away. “Been thinking again about going to my Dad’s.”

“But what about me? Us? You’re just going to
run away from that, too?”

“I’m not running away from anything.”

“No? Seems to me you’ve been running since
Michael died.”

This time he faced her square. “That’s not
fair.”

“None of it’s fair. But you’ve been slowly
closing down for months. I don’t even know what to say
anymore.”

“Seems to me you’ve had plenty to say.”

“I can’t believe you can be so...” She
faltered a moment, as if searching for words. “You never used to be
cruel.”

“Then maybe it’d be a relief if I was
gone.”

Scott turned, but not before he saw another
shadow of pain cross her face. It was almost strong enough to pull
him back.

Almost.

Damn you, Michael. Why did you have to go and
die?

That thought made him falter and for one
brief moment he considered turning around and seeking the comfort
of Caitlin’s arms. But the loud thud of the door slamming told him
it was too late.

God, maybe I am turning into some kind of
bastard.

He walked away from her house, and as he
neared the corner where the streetlight was out, a cloud scuttled
across the moon, casting him into an eerie darkness. He shuddered.
Serve me right if some maniac took me out.

But even as the thought took shape, Scott
knew he didn’t mean it. He didn’t want to die. He just wanted to
stop hurting so bad. And stop being so angry. Caitlin was right. He
had hardly displayed any emotion of late except this anger that
bordered on rage.

The counselor kept telling him it would pass
in time. What he’d like to know is when. Three fucking months
seemed plenty long enough.

Maybe his idea of going out to California
wasn’t such a bad one after all. Get away from this place that had
reminders around every corner. And since he’d probably just screwed
everything royally with Caitlin, there wasn’t much holding him here
now.

But I’ll wait until after Christmas. Mom
would kill me if I went before.

Ha. She’s going to kill you anyway.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Jenny debated about parking at her shop and
walking to the police station. It wasn’t too far. But what if
Mitchell drove by and thought she was there. If he stopped and then
discovered the place empty, what would he do? She’d left so many of
his questions unanswered. She didn’t want to risk another.

The urge to laugh was strong and she
recognized the impulse for what it was; a release of nerves that
had hovered like vultures since Steve had called. Why on earth had
he risked so much by having her come to the station? If even one
whiff of an association between her and the cops made it to the
streets - then possibly to Frank – the whole deal would be blown.
All those weeks of subterfuge for naught.

She finally opted to park in the lot to the
rear of the old Catholic Church that resembled a Quonset hut.
Despite its unconventional appearance, everyone in town knew it was
a church and it might be the last place anyone would notice her
car; especially if she pulled into the farthest corner of the lot
where a huge, untrimmed oak stretched a long finger of branch over
the concrete.

After checking the review mirror to make sure
her hair was tucked into the baseball cap, she pulled the collar of
her jacket up, donned sunglasses and stepped out of the car.
Keeping to the backstreets, she hurried the few blocks to the
police station.

To get to the back of the building she turned
down the dark alley, pausing a moment to let her eyes adjust to the
shadows. Senses on overdrive, she took a few tentative steps
forward, then heard a loud clang and the rustle of scurrying feet.
She froze. Even though she knew the sound was too small to be
human, she wasn’t thrilled at the prospect of meeting a rat big
enough to make that much noise.

Another rattle, then she caught a flash of
white – hopefully a cat – as it dashed by and disappeared around
the corner.

She let out a breath in relief and walked
toward the end of the alley where she could see a faint sliver of
light. As she neared, she could just barely make out a figure
standing by the door. She called out tentatively, “Steve?”

“Yeah. Come on.” He opened the door wider and
hustled her in. “Anyone see you?”

“Not unless you count the cat in the
alley.”

Steve smiled. “We have ways of taking care of
that.”

“You can let him go.” She took off her
sunglasses and slipped them into a jacket pocket. “I don’t think he
recognized me.”

Her joke elicited another smile, and she
realized that she’d taken to doing that a lot lately; wise-cracking
to prompt the expression that softened the hardness in his eyes and
created a hint of a dimple on one cheek. She knew she probably
shouldn’t. It was only setting herself up for disappointment. But
the temptation was too strong to resist.

Walking into the conference room, Jenny
picked up the unmistakable air of tension in the room. Burroughs,
sitting at the head of the table, gave her a brief nod and Gonzales
motioned for her to sit in a chair across from him. Steve sat
beside her. Nobody spoke for an agonizing moment, and Jenny studied
the frown that creased the Chief’s face. “What’s wrong?”

He glanced toward Burroughs. “We located
Chico,” Burroughs said.

Something in his tone suggested that she
wasn’t going to like the next part.

“Some fishermen found his body early this
morning in Lake Lewisville.”

Jenny swallowed the lump that rose in her
throat. Chico had seemed like such a decent guy – if drug dealers
could be considered decent. Under his tough-guy performances, she
had always suspected there was a kid who’d simply taken a wrong
turn somewhere in his life, and perhaps even regretted it. When
she’d looked into his eyes she’d never seen the same hard edge that
was in Frank’s. She swallowed again. Maybe it was that core of
decency that had been Chico’s downfall.

“We think the two guys from Denton are
probably floaters somewhere, too. And we’re pretty sure why they
were taken out. That place has reeked with internal trouble for a
long time.” Burroughs rubbed the back of his neck. “What we can’t
figure is why this Chico guy was whacked.”

Gonzales poured a glass of water from the
pitcher in the middle of the table and pushed it across to Jenny.
“You have any ideas?”

On one hand it was nice to be asked for an
opinion; almost made her feel like one of the guys. But it also
made her realize how little she did know of this whole underworld
of drugs. “To tell you the truth, I was so busy making sure I came
across credible I wouldn’t have spotted anything wrong even if I
knew what to look for.”

“Did you have a rapport with Chico?”
Burroughs asked.

Jenny nodded and took a swallow of water.

“What about this other guy, Frank? You okay
with him?”

“He gives me the creeps more than—”

“He try anything else since your midnight
ride?” Gonzales asked.

“No. Been pretty much business as usual. But
he’s still the silent type. Leon does most of the talking.”

“Has he said anything about the big buy?”

Jenny shook her head, and Gonzales wiped a
hand across his cheek. Then he looked to Burroughs. “Think we ought
to scrap the whole operation?”

“Do I have a vote?” Jenny asked before the
other man even opened his mouth.

“This isn’t a democracy,” Gonzales said.

“I think she knows that,” Steve said. “But
she has a right to some input.”

The support was unexpected, and Jenny shot
him a quick glance, sending a silent message of thanks. Gonzales
watched the exchange and sat silent for a moment.

“Steve’s right,” Burroughs said. “She’s had
the most contact and probably knows the temperature better than any
of us.”

“We still decide,” Gonzales said.

After waiting for nods of acknowledgement, he
gestured to Jenny to go ahead.

“I think I’ve earned their respect.” She
glanced quickly at Steve, hoping he wouldn’t mention how exactly
she’d done that. “Way I see it, the ride that night was a test. See
if I’d scare off.”

She was glad to see a nod of agreement from
Burroughs. The support gave her confidence. “So even though Frank
doesn’t say much, I think I’m still credible. I’d like to at least
make the approach again.”

Gonzales glanced from Steve to Burroughs, one
eyebrow raised in question. Burroughs seemed to consider for a
moment while he twirled a pen on the table, then he abruptly
stopped the motion with the flat of his hand. “It’s worth a try. We
can always bail out later if we need to.”

“What do you think?” Gonzales directed that
question to Steve.

“She’s got the most on the line,” he said,
nodding in Jenny’s direction.

“That’s true,” Gonzales said. “And that’s one
reason I’m leery. She’s not a professional, and how do we know
revenge isn’t clouding her reason?”

“Because I’m not doing it for revenge.” Jenny
could feel a distinct chill permeate the room after that statement,
but she didn’t care. She continued in the same controlled tone.
“And you’re a sorry son of a bitch if you don’t know my motive by
now.”

The chill turned glacial as Gonzales sucked
in a quick breath. Jenny held up one hand to deter what she knew
was going to be an angry response. “If I only wanted revenge, I
would have simply bought a gun and shot the bastards.”

She ignored the slight rustle of movement she
heard from Steve and focused on the Chief. As the seconds ticked
by, the red in his face slowly gave way to the natural olive color.
“You’ve got a point,” he said.

Jenny didn’t risk any more words.

“But any new wrinkle comes along, we shut
down.”

“That seems like a good plan,” Burroughs
said.

Gonzales kept his dark, cold eyes on Jenny.
“We clear on that?”

She nodded.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

When Jenny opened the door, she almost
fainted. “Ralph? What are you doing here?”

“I came to see what’s going on.”

“What do you mean?”

“Carol called—”

“Carol? My friend?”

“Yeah. She got my number from Scott.”

Jenny leaned her head against the edge of the
door, her mind in a whirl.
Is every fuckin’ thing spinning out
of control?

“Are you going to let me in?”

She nodded and stepped away from the door.
When he entered, Alicia saw him and bounded up from the sofa.
“Daddy!”

She threw herself at him, and Jenny stilled
the wild beating of her heart. There had to be a way out. There
just had to be.

Ralph put his bag down and drew Alicia into
an embrace. “How’s my girl?”