The Chase (6 page)

Another exquisitely placed layer went on the cast. “Yes. And in all the times he’s referred patients to me, he’s never, not once, come along.”

A whooshing noise filled Jo’s head and that crazy explosion of heat from the night before happened again.

He’s never come along
.

She so should have slept with him.

“Oh, Christ,” Gabe muttered.

She didn’t dare look at him. Nope. Not going there. Instead, she’d park that information in the part of her brain that housed nonthreatening items. “He’s guilt ridden because his rookie screwed up and now my hand is broken.”

Rich’s head snapped up.

“I do feel bad,” Gabe said. “But that doesn’t come close to my feelings about a certain loudmouthed attorney who doesn’t listen when she’s told to stay put.”

She swung her head in his direction.
Shark Gabe
. “Well, maybe if a certain bullheaded sergeant—”

“Ho-kay, folks,” Rich said. “Let’s not fight in front of the children.”

“And to think,” Jo muttered, “he’s never been married.”

Gabe laughed. “Uh, Counselor, neither have you. What does that say about us?”

“What it says about me is that I’m particular.”

“No. It says that we’re both pains in the asses who want everything our way and no one could put up with us.”

Rich cleared his throat. “So,
anyway,
to answer your question. Yes, I usually have someone do this for me, but since my friend Gabe is here, I figured you must be someone I’d like to meet.”

Such a charmer. Who’d have guessed? She waggled her finger at Gabe. “That’s how it’s done, big boy. I hope you’re taking notes.”

Her cell phone chirped. Sherry’s ringtone. “Ooh, I have to get that.” Trying not to move the arm being casted, she bent sideways to retrieve her phone from her purse and hit the button before it went to voice mail. “Hi. Sorry. I’m getting an exceptional cast put on my hand by a charming doctor. It sucks to be me.” Rich smiled at her. “What’s up?”

“I’ve been to three vendors already. None of them have that new Konklin watch, but they all said there’s a shipment coming in on Friday.
Friday
.”

Jo looked at Gabe. He sensed her excitement and stood tall. “What?”

“They all said that?” she asked Sherry.

“Every one of them.”

“What is it?” he asked, getting louder.

“It’s Sherry. She’s on the prowl for a Konklin. Three vendors told her there’s a shipment coming in on Friday.”

He snatched the phone. “Sherry? Gabe Townsend.”

“Hey,” Jo yelled. “Give that back.”

She held her hand up, but Gabe grabbed it and squeezed. Not hard. Just enough to keep her from the phone. Or to distract her with how
incredibly
warm and good and cozy it felt to hold his hand.

Bastard
.

“Okay,” he said, entwining his fingers with hers. “Type that up and email it to me. Right…thanks.” After finishing up with Sherry, he clicked off, slipped his hand free—damned shame, that—and dropped the phone back in Jo’s purse.

“What’d she say?”

“One big shipment coming in on Friday for multiple vendors.”

“That’s my guy. Has to be. We need to figure out who he is and how he’s getting these huge shipments into the city.”

“And we will. My guess is the load is coming in on a container ship. I’ll get with someone at the Port Authority. If we’re lucky, we’ll find the ship.” Gabe pointed at the doctor. “Rich, hit the gas. We have work to do.”

—:—

So much for his day off. Gabe dropped Jo at her office then hauled ass to the Port Authority to alert Customs about a possible shipment of counterfeit goods.

Next he put the word out with the undercover guys. With all the informants those guys had, someone on the street would know where this shipment would be coming from.

By three-thirty he was heading home to take his mother grocery shopping. His phone rang and he checked the screen. Calhoun. One of the vice guys.

“I just talked to one of my CIs,” Calhoun said. “Check out a warehouse in Brooklyn.”

Brooklyn
. Could be the same place they’d been watching? Jo would have a coronary. “What’s up with this warehouse?”

“The CI knows a guy who hijacks trucks. They bring the hot load to this Brooklyn location and get paid for the goods. He said it’s a huge fuckin’ place.”

“Address?”

The detective rattled off an address on First Street. Yep. Their warehouse. Prickling energy shot up Gabe’s arms. “Who pays them?”

“He doesn’t know. All he knows is what the guy told him. This was a few months back though.”

Well, shit. A few months back? Might as well have been years.

“You got a name for anybody at the warehouse?”

“All my guy knows is a street name. Kiki.”

Easy to remember.

Gabe swung a U-turn in the intersection and headed back to the Queensboro Bridge. He’d have to get with Bev on this, which meant returning to the city and blowing off grocery shopping with his mother. She’d been waiting on him all day and he hated disappointing her, but this might be months of work finally paying off. “Good enough. I’ll check it out. Thanks.”

The CI’s information, combined with all the surveillance they’d done on the place, might be enough to get them a warrant.

He called his mom to break the news and then reached out to Bev. He got her voice mail and called Jo.

“Good afternoon, Sergeant,” she said. “What can I do for you?”

“I got a lead on a warehouse in Brooklyn.”

A pause. “My warehouse?”

“Looks like.”

“No!”

He grinned. Crazy-assed woman. “Yes. An informant gave it to one of our undercover guys. The intel is old though. Few months at least. We’re looking for a guy named Kiki.”

“Is he our guy?”

“Don’t know, but we might have enough for a warrant. Heading back to see Bev now.” He hit a little construction traffic on the bridge. “Damn.”

“What?”

“Nothing. Traffic. I was heading home. I promised my mother I’d take her shopping.”

“I’m sorry, Gabe.”

“Not your fault.” A cabbie cut him off and nearly clipped his front bumper. “Hey, asshole! Watch where you’re going.”

Of course, it was November and he didn’t have the windows open, but maybe the guy read lips.

“But it’s your day off.”

“Yeah, well. You of all people know how that goes. Are you taking the ferry home tonight?”

“Yep. And now I have my new cast that can double as a weapon if I get mugged.”

“Not funny, Jo.”

“I thought it was.”

He snorted. Maybe it was a little funny. “Okay. I’ll call your cell if I find out anything. Do me a favor and see if you can track down Bev. I left her a voice mail. You might have better luck. I’m gonna send someone over to Brooklyn to grab a few bags of garbage from the warehouse Dumpster. See if we find anything with the name Kiki.”

“Perfect. I’ll come by and help you.”

“Jo, it’s garbage. Forget it. Go home and I’ll let you know what we find.”

“No, I want to help. It’ll go faster with another set of hands. Besides, I’m excited.”

Of course she was. She lived for this. “Your call. Let me go. I’ll let you know when the garbage arrives.”

He tossed the phone on the passenger seat and focused on the traffic ahead. Without getting too ahead of himself, he tried to remain cautiously optimistic about a warrant. He’d been doing this job long enough to not make any assumptions, but something told him they’d be hitting this warehouse in the next twenty-four hours.

Two hours later, Gabe stood in the damp HQ basement with three trash-filled construction-sized garbage bags ripped open on a plastic lined table. Most of what covered the table were reports, invoices, used mailing envelopes, printed emails and a couple of coffee cups. In other words, nothing too nasty. At least the stuff didn’t come from a restaurant. That’s when things really got interesting.

Across from him, Jo had taken her jacket off, pushed up her sleeves, cut three holes in a clean garbage bag he’d snagged from the supply closet and shoved it over her head to protect her clothes. Latex gloves topped off the ensemble. Somehow, she made a garbage bag sexy.

Unable to resist, he snapped a picture of her with his phone.

She glanced up, saw him with the phone and narrowed her eyes. “Oh, no you didn’t.”

He tucked his phone away and went back to his garbage. “Oh, yes I did.”

“What are you going to do with that?”

He shrugged. “Not sure.”

“You’re such an ass.”

“Yeah, I know.” He went back to the load of trash in front of him. “Snag anything with a name. Envelopes, memos, emails. Anything. Kiki is a street name. Chances are we won’t find anything with that name on it.”

“Then what?”

“Then, Ms. Pomeroy, we check all the names, pull photos of the males and show our pipe wielding scumbag a photo lineup. See if he recognizes anyone.”

“He won’t tell us.”

Gabe unraveled a crumbled sheet of yellow legal paper. Nothing but stick figures. “The eternal optimist is turning negative on me?”

“Not negative. Realistic. I know these vendors. They’re too afraid to talk.”

“We’ll see. I’ll get the A.D.A. to make him a deal he can’t resist.”

Chapter Five

On the ferry the next morning, Jo got lucky and only had to share her window bench seat with one other person. A regular she saw most mornings who, like her, took advantage of the extra space on the bench by setting his briefcase there.

Around them, other commuters worked on their laptops, read or fiddled with their phones. Many mornings, Jo did the same. Today though, the lunacy of the week had set in and she simply wanted to watch the sun glisten off the Hudson. If her emails took an extra chunk out of her day, so be it.

From inside her bag, her cell phone rang and she checked the screen. Gabe. Hopefully he had good news. “Tell me you got the warrant.”

“Good morning, Counselor.”

And oh, the sound of that voice in the morning. Mr. August at his smoldering best. “Good morning, Sergeant. Tell me you got the warrant.”

Her bench mate shifted his eyes to her then back to his newspaper.

“I got the warrant,” Gabe said. “Kiki is Clarence Hill. Your pipe wielding scumbag picked him out of our photo lineup. Done deal.”

“Yes!”

He’d done it. Even when she doubted the vendor would help them, Gabe got it done.

“Take it easy, Counselor. He’s not our guy. He’s the number two guy. Scumbag doesn’t know who Kiki’s boss is.”

“Darn it.”

“Yeah. Anyway, we’re gonna hit the warehouse this afternoon. Got a meeting at ten hundred.”

A ten o’clock meeting would most likely mean an early afternoon search. She’d have to move her appointments. Assuming he’d stick to his word and let her participate. “I’d like to be there when the search is done. You’ll let me know what time?”

“I’ll call you. Remember what we talked about.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I’m not kidding, Jo. Unless I tell you to go in, you stay put. Don’t screw with me on this. I’ll lock you in the truck if I have to.”

Only if you’re locked in with me, big fella
. “I love when you talk dirty.”

Her bench mate snorted. Men.

“Jo!”

“Oh, all right. Don’t start yelling. I’ll be a good little girl and stay outside until you, and only you, tell me it’s safe to go in. Happy?”

“Thank you. You’re giving me an ulcer.”

He hung up and she smirked. An ulcer wasn’t so bad. Could have been worse. Still, she’d try not to aggravate him. She owed him that much. She clicked the end button on her phone and went to her calendar as the ferry slowed for its arrival.

Two client meetings this afternoon. She’d have to postpone those. She hated asking people to rearrange their day for her, but this couldn’t be avoided. Not if she wanted a firsthand look at what was in that warehouse.

—:—

Gabe stood at the open door to the warehouse his unit had just hit and waved Jo in. Miracle of all miracles, she’d actually listened.

She walked toward him in a killer pair of high-heeled shoes—designer no doubt—and black slacks. Her red trench coat was cinched tight against the cold November day, but the sun was decently warm and glistening off her blond hair.

Beautiful, sexy and a pain in the ass.

I’m cooked
.

He dragged his eyes from her—which completely sucked—and glanced at the precinct guys filtering in through the loading dock doors.

“Did you see anything?” Jo asked when she reached the door.

“Nothing but a few employees and a shitload of boxes. No Kiki.”

“How many employees?”