The Good Daughter (6 page)

Vince dropped the bags on the lone scarred picnic
table and followed. He wanted to shake her out of the obvious lie, yet she appeared so fragile and distraught that he obeyed a different impulse. “Come here,” he said, laying a comforting hand on her shoulder.

At first she held herself erect. Then her shoulders sagged toward him. Awkwardly, Vince slid an arm around her, feeling her delicate frame tremble. Wanting to shield her from whatever had upset her so badly, he began to draw her against him.

Instantly, she went rigid, stepping back, arms tight around herself once more. “I apologize, Detective.” The soft, vulnerable woman straightened into military rigor, rapidly disappearing inside the icy woman who’d sat across the desk from Vince only the day before. “That was unprofessional. Absolutely inexcusable.”

The transformation was so complete he could have almost convinced himself he’d imagined her earlier distress, except that his body retained the feel of her curves against him. But that woman was gone, and the one standing in her place was a cold, closed stranger.

It pissed him off. “Screw that.” He moved toward her. “Chloe, I can help. You can talk to me.”

“Thank you, but I don’t need your help.” Princess to peasant. “Please excuse me. I have to go now.” Turning, no monarch ever made a more regal departure.

But her eyes gave her away. She wasn’t tough enough for this world, and he couldn’t afford to care. Vince quelled the urge to go after her, cursing roundly. He had to stay focused on his priorities, none of which had to do with a golden girl who could be unraveled by the world in which he was at home.

To find Gloria, to bring down Moreno, to save Tino meant he couldn’t afford any distractions. All he required from Chloe St. Claire was his ticket back on duty, nothing else.

But still he watched her go, unable to escape the feeling that maybe even a princess might need a friend.

V
INCE’S LONG STRIDES
took the stairs at headquarters two at a time. He didn’t want to chance crossing paths with the brass in the elevator; he was one of a handful of cops who liked using the stairs, anyway. He considered it simply part of his workout, along with lifting weights in the police gym.

But tonight he was also in a hurry. He hadn’t found out anything from Gloria’s friend, so he was switching gears for now. He wanted the file he’d assembled on Los Carnales. He might not get another chance to come up here until he was cleared. He’d only managed one day of dealing with complaints about traffic tickets and rerouting wrong calls to other city departments before his temper had gotten the best of him. Rather than do his career more damage, he’d grabbed a rookie who’d wandered in and convinced him it would enhance his record to volunteer free time to help out. Not that Vince was required to do the light duty. He had plenty of personal leave coming, but they’d expect him to be away from the premises if he wasn’t going to finish his stint in the chief’s office.

Sarge wouldn’t be happy, but Sarge should be gone by now. Family life had settled well on him; he was religious about being home on time whenever possible.

“Hey, Vince, how’s the Arctic Circle?” Fellow detective Jerry Akers looked up, probably loving Vince’s predicament.

Vince zinged him back. “Screw you, too, Akers. Still in love with that drag queen?”

Akers flushed and made a crude gesture. Undercover cops could generally sniff out a female impersonator, but one had gotten past Akers last month, and no one would let him forget the guy’s tongue in his ear on a buy-walk.

“A buy-walk means you pay but cancel, remember, Akers? You don’t get to sample the merchandise.”

“You know I didn’t—” He raked his fingers through rapidly thinning hair. “That he-she just moved too fast.”

“So you say, Akers. So you say.” Vince winked and strolled past, hearing Akers muttering behind him. They barely tolerated each other. Vince couldn’t stand cops who cut corners, and Akers was one who took the easy way out too often. Akers wouldn’t have let Vince off the hook if the tables had been turned.

But it could have happened to any of them. Some of those guys could teach Cindy Crawford about being drop-dead gorgeous. Most of them were just ugly men with two pounds of makeup on their faces, but Vince had seen some himself that had caused him to do a double take.

Whistling softly, he sat down at his desk, dogged by the same strangeness that required a while to rub off after the few vacations he’d taken. That odd feeling
where things don’t quite fit anymore.
You
don’t quite fit anymore.

He shrugged. Everything would be fine once he was cleared. All the more reason to dig in and find out where things had gone wrong. He withdrew his key ring, fingers coming to rest on the small key to the lateral file behind his desk. After swiveling in his chair, he unlocked the cabinet, his fingers going to the brown unmarked envelope folder mixed in with dead files in the back. If Woods caught him removing files while he was under IAD investigation, there’d be hell to pay. Never mind that this was his own and not related to his current assignments with the Eastside Gangsters. Vince was doubly glad he’d written all his notes in his oddball shorthand.

Quickly, he removed several sheets of paper from his Moreno file, folded them and stuffed them in the waist of his jeans, then loosened his shirttail and let it hang out.

Vince locked the file cabinet, then glanced around for something to take with him to explain why he’d been here. He seized upon a paperback thriller he’d left behind. No one had to know he’d already read it. Picking up the book, he rose from his chair and made for the door.

Sarge walked in at that moment. His eyebrows lifted slightly, then he nodded toward his office. “Got a minute?”

Oh, hell. Sarge was supposed to be gone by now. Vince gripped the paperback and followed him.

The door safely closed, Woods turned. “Thought you were in the chief’s office.”

Vince struggled to look unconcerned. “I, uh—oh, hell, Sarge, you know what that’s like. If one more jerk called to ask why cops were writing tickets instead of putting criminals in jail—”

Woods chuckled. “Yeah, I do. So you’re taking personal time, instead?”

Vince nodded. “Just forgot a book I’ve meant to read.”

The piercing gaze told him Woods wasn’t fooled. “I see. You wouldn’t be up here trying to do a little work, would you?”

Sarge would never buy an outright denial. “Would you let me?”

“Vince, I don’t like it any better than you, but we have to let the system play out. I understand that it’s grinding at you not to be on duty, but don’t do anything stupid.”

The papers at his waist burned like a brand. Vince seized on a distraction. “How’s Carol?”

Woods narrowed his gaze. “She’s fine.”

“Got any baby pictures?” Vince hoped to trade on Sarge’s devotion to his family. Carol Woods had polished his rough edges and given Sarge a family life most cops could only dream of.

“Got a whole stack of ’em.” But his gaze said he wasn’t buying. “How’s it going with St. Claire?”

“It’s going.” Vince forced himself to meet Sarge’s eyes. He shrugged. “She’s not so bad.”

“Good, good.” A ponderous silence fell between
them. “Vince, you know I wish I could—” Words he shouldn’t voice spoke from his eyes.

“Yeah.” All his men understood Sarge’s loyalty to them. “Nothing to do but wait it out. I’ll be all right. Newcombe can’t nail me.”

Both men shifted uneasily, the knowledge that Newcombe could hurt him anyway hanging in the air between them. An IAD officer with an ax to grind looked to support his theory, not acquit the cop.

“Listen, I’ll keep my ear to the ground. You just concentrate on putting the doc’s mind at rest. I need you back and not taking stupid chances.”

A tightness in his throat, Vince nodded quickly. “Thanks, Sarge.”

Woods straightened and clapped him on the shoulder. “Now scram, Coronado. Go get some rest—you’re gonna wish you had when you’re back on the job.”

Vince shot him a brief smile and left, hoping to God that Sarge was right. He needed back in the game. Soon.

T
HE NEXT MORNING
, Chloe was well aware that she was being a coward, but she could not face Vince Coronado yet. She was still too embarrassed by how she’d lost her composure with him. Besides, he hadn’t wanted these sessions, anyway. He’d be relieved. “Wanda, please call Detective Coronado and cancel our appointment for today.”

Red curls bounced as Wanda glanced up. “Something wrong?”

“No, I just have a conflict.”

“You have an opening late this afternoon.”

“I can’t—” Seeing Wanda’s curious glance, Chloe straightened, trying for the cool expression her mother used to such effect. One eyebrow arched; her voice was neutral. “Detective Coronado will be glad for the break.”

She didn’t think Wanda was convinced, but the woman didn’t argue. “When shall I reschedule?”

“I’ll get back to you on that.” Chloe walked to her office before Wanda could ask another question she wasn’t ready to answer. He
would
be glad. He didn’t want to talk to her. Chloe pushed away the memory of the promise she’d made that he could trust her. She wouldn’t let him down. She only sought a little time, a little distance. It was for his own good.

Sure it was. Chloe’s mouth twisted at the attempt to delude herself. Over the course of a restless night, she’d thought about him too often. Unnerved by how he made her feel.

For one treacherous moment, his simple compassion had undone her. She’d wanted to lean into that awkward hug and let his strength surround her. It was absurd. Unthinkable. She simply needed to regroup, then the cool professional would invite Vince Coronado back and finish his evaluation.

After that she’d send him on his way, never to cross paths again, God willing.

V
INCE DRANK
his coffee, staring into the soft green shadows that would all too soon give way to blistering heat.

A loud purring broke his concentration. “If you’d catch that mouse that’s been into the birdseed, there’s another week’s food in it for you.”

Yellow eyes blinked at him with disinterest. Licking one paw, the tomcat swiped at his fur.

“Tell you what—you work on the mouse thing until tomorrow, then we’ll renegotiate. My final offer—take it or leave it.”

His pager beeped. He checked it, punched in numbers on the phone, then pulled at dangling strips of old paper. “Coronado.”

“It’s Wanda, Vince. Chloe, uh, Chloe has a conflict with your appointment this afternoon. She’ll have to reschedule.”

He frowned. Conflicts happened, but he didn’t like the odd note in Wanda’s voice. “Okay. When?”

“She said she’d let me know.”

Suddenly, what Vince would have done anything to avoid days ago he now wanted. He didn’t have time to waste. It had nothing to do with worry about her, not really, except that all night he’d thought about—

“Vince?”

He shook himself. “Yeah?”

“Something happen between you two?”

Vince narrowed his gaze. “Why would you ask that?”

“She seems…I don’t know. A little shaky today. I’ve never seen her like this. I suppose it might be the King of Hair Spray, but Chloe’s never cared that much. When she mentioned you, though, she—” Wanda sighed. “Just wondered.”

The King of Hair Spray.
Vince didn’t want to feel the small tug of satisfaction that he unsettled her and Barnes didn’t. The only thing worse than trusting Chloe St. Claire would be falling for her. “Sure. No sweat. Tell her I’ll try to make time whenever she’s ready, but no promises.”

“Vince—”

“Goodbye, Wanda.” He could still hear her protesting as he hung up the phone.

“Son,” he said to the fur-laden muncher, “my best advice to you—stay away from women altogether.”

V
INCE STARTED
in the bars along East Eleventh, looking for Tino. If he didn’t find him there, he’d continue onward to the topless joints favored by Los Carnales. If it took all night and the next week running, he’d track Tino down and figure out exactly what was happening with his friend.

His foul mood had the bar patrons giving him wide berth. He didn’t have time for her to hold him up, damn it. Whatever was going on with Chloe St. Claire, she didn’t have the right to string him along.

At the fourth bar, he found Tino shooting craps in the back room. “Hey,
carnal,
” Tino greeted. “Whassup?”

Had Vince been in a better mood, he’d grin about how Latino gangs had adopted black lingo. But he wasn’t. With a jerk of his head, he stalked outside.

Tino took his time about it, but he followed. “What’s with you, man? Why you dis me in front of my friends?”

Vince rounded on him. “Where the hell have you been?”

Pride stuck out all around Tino like thorns on a cactus. He walked away, shooting Vince the finger.

Vince exhaled. “Okay, wait up. I’m sorry.”

Tino stopped but didn’t turn back.

“Look, I’ve got a boatload of crap to deal with right now, and…” He paused. “I was worried about you.”

“Me?” Tino turned. “Why?”

“Because you were a stupid little kid and I got in the habit, all right?”

Tino rolled his eyes, but his shoulders relaxed. “I ain’t been a little kid in a long time,
pendejo.
” The epithet was uttered with reluctant fondness.

Vince grinned. “But I can still take you.”

“Bet me—” Tino feinted and managed to clip Vince on the arm. “You and me. Anytime, anywhere—”

Vince slugged him on the shoulder. “I’m a lover nowadays, not a fighter.”

Tino laughed. “Yeah, right.” Then he sobered. “You give it any thought, what I said the other night?”

“I did.” Vince cocked his head. “The answer’s no.”

“Listen to me, man—” Tino looked desperate. “I need your help. What I meant was—” he glanced over his shoulder “—I want out, Vince.”

That got Vince’s attention. “Why?”

Tino’s gaze danced around, scanning the shadows, dusting the ground. “It’s Leticia and Tino Junior. I don’t want my boy caught in a drive-by someday.” When his eyes lifted, Vince saw truth and more than a little fear.

“You really want out?” Vince asked. “All the way out?”

Something dark flared in Tino’s eyes. “Yeah, but I’m
not stupid. I know it ain’t gonna work. But if I could get Leticia and Tino Junior someplace safe—”

“I can make it happen for all of you,” Vince interrupted. Tino was right, no one resigned from gang life. You were in or you were dead. But an idea was forming, and he thought rapidly.

Prison had removed every last trace of the naive kid in Tino. “I don’t think so.”

His idea was a long shot, but to save Tino and get Moreno, too… “I know a way,” Vince said.

“Digame.”
Tell me.

“You help me take Moreno down,” Vince said. “And I’ll get all three of you into the Witness Protection Program.”

“You lost your mind?”

“He murdered Carlos.”

“He was in prison. And he don’t do his own dirty work,” Tino sneered.

“You know that and I know that, but he ordered the hit and I’m going to prove it.” Vince leaned closer. “No matter what else happened, Carlos was good to you, Tino. He cared about you and me the way no one else did.”

Tino’s eyes shifted. “He’s dead, Vince. He ain’t comin’ back, no matter what you do.”

Vince’s jaw tightened. “I can’t let this go. If it takes the rest of my life, Moreno’s going to pay.”

“You are one
loco hombre.
You got a death wish? Moreno could have you killed just like that—” He snapped his fingers, and the sound echoed in the darkness. “Forget him, man. It won’t change anything.”

“So you didn’t mean it when you said you wanted out for Tino Junior and Leticia.”

“Hell, yes, I—” Tino cursed long and loud. “Vince, man, you can’t do this by yourself.”

“I will if I have to,” Vince said. “But I could use your help.” He played the card he’d never before played. “And you owe me. You know you do.”

For endless moments, they studied each other. In Tino’s eyes, Vince could see doubt and fear and a hint of hope.

Finally, Tino spoke. “Maybe that’s true, but you can’t collect if you’re dead. Give it up, bro. It’s crazy.”

“Are you in or out?” Vince refused to let him look away.

After a long, tense pause, Tino’s shoulders sagged. “You really think you can get us protection?” He frowned. “We’d have to leave everyone behind.”

“That’s right.”

“Feds don’t take small-timers.”

“This won’t be small-time. I’m going for federal charges.
Day for day.
” It was a code phrase veteran cons used to signify a sentence with no parole. “You help me make this case, they’ll take you.”

Cynicism slowly gave way to a trust that had once filled a young boy’s eyes every time he’d looked at Vince. “What do I have to do?”

Worry swamped Vince almost as quickly as gratitude. He’d meant it when he said he’d do it alone, but Tino was closer to the inside and everything would go much faster with his help. But Tino would be in danger. “I’m not asking you to stick your neck out big. Just
let me register you as my informant on the Eastside Gangsters—”

“What? You crazy, man? Eastsiders are part of the L.A. Bandidos. They’re sworn enemies of Los Carnales.”

Vince held up a hand. “It’s a smoke screen. It won’t draw attention to you if anyone bothers to check. I’m not supposed to be working Los Carnales, but with you registered as my snitch for Eastside, we can get together anytime and no one on the force knows that I’m gathering information on Moreno.”

“Where you plan to get that information?”

“You, of course. But you’ll be meeting me in Eastside territory, so Moreno won’t know.”

“
Cristo,
Vince, you don’t want much, do you? I get caught on Eastside turf and I’m dead anyway.”

“We’ll be careful.” Vince hardened his tone. “And I mean that, Tino. You watch your back.”

“You’re playing a dangerous game yourself, eh,
carnal?
I already heard that Quintanilla is a cold case and nobody’s working it.”

“I’m working it.”

“But not with permission.”

Vince eyed Tino and shook his head. “No. But I’m going to get Moreno anyhow.”

Tino’s eyes shifted uneasily. “You gotta promise me that if anything happens to me or you, Leticia and Tino Junior will be okay or I’m outta here, you got that?”

Vince nodded. “Yeah. I have a friend who’ll take care of it. I’ll talk to him right away.”

Tino shook his head. “You are one crazy mother. When this is finished, I don’t owe you nothin’.”

“Agreed. Okay, listen up. Here’s how we’ll work the meets.” With a few short instructions, he set out his plan.

Now all he had to do was smoke the good doctor out of hiding and convince her to put him back on active duty.

She didn’t have a chance.

I
N THE HEAT
of late afternoon, Chloe inserted her key in the car door.

“I never took you for a coward, Doc.”

Chloe fumbled the keys, whirling and clasping one hand to her chest. “Vince—Detective,” she gasped. “What—what are you doing here?”

He stood there, tall and dark and entirely too disturbing. “Why’d you cancel?”

“Surely Wanda told you I had a schedule conflict.”

“So she said. But you didn’t offer an alternative.” Vivid blue eyes called her bluff, those firm lips quirking at one corner, revealing the dimple that so contradicted his raw power. “I’m ready to reschedule.”

“I—I don’t keep my appointments calendar with me. Call Wanda tomorrow.”

“And will she find an opening?”

Chloe glanced away. “I’m sure she will.”

“Positive, Doc?”

Flight seemed the best recourse, yet his gaze dared her to concede to her fear. She reached behind her for the
car’s door handle, fingers fidgeting against the chrome. “Yes.”

He glanced the length of her vehicle, one dark eyebrow lifting. “I thought a Tarrytown lady had to drive a luxury SUV or some sporty coupe, Doc.” He grinned and stuck his hands in his back jeans pockets, weight cocked on one hip. The dark blue T-shirt stretched tight across his muscled chest. A more compelling man Chloe had never met.

“My mother’s the Tarrytown lady.
Consumer Reports
ranks this economy car one of the best.” She sniffed, pulling her gaze away. “It’s quite safe and reliable.”

Vince tilted his head slightly, examining her in minute detail. Softly, he challenged, “Do you always choose safety, Chloe?” His eyes warred with his mocking tone.

Suddenly, Chloe almost wished she didn’t.

He straightened, pulling his hands from the pockets. His expression was all seriousness now. “Come with me. Let me buy you a drink.”

She shouldn’t want to go with him, but she did. “You’re my client. I can’t.”

“You abandoned me. I’m not your client now.”

Chloe gasped in outrage. “I did not. I would never—”

He chuckled. “But you did chicken out on me—admit it.”

What could she say? He was too perceptive by far.

Vince saved her the answer. “Come on, Chloe, give me a chance. It’s just a drink. Who knows? You might even get me drunk and make me spill my guts. I’m
safe—I swear it.” He drew a cross over his heart, holding up the other palm in a pledge.

She’d never met a man less safe. But by-the-book didn’t always work. She’d assured him she wouldn’t let him down, but she’d been very close to doing exactly that, out of fear that she couldn’t control a man with such potent appeal.

She wanted to laugh at her own foolishness. One didn’t control a man like Vince Coronado; she was foolish to try. Finally, she did smile. “There’s absolutely nothing safe about you, Vince.”

Even knowing that she was walking straight into the den of the lion, she couldn’t recall the last time she’d felt so alive. Maybe this was the opportunity she needed to win his trust. It could be simply another session in a different setting, not personal at all. Sometimes you learned more on a client’s turf.

“All right, you win.”

The slash of even white teeth against his olive skin was her reward. He gestured the way with a sweep of one arm, the other hand grasping her elbow lightly. “This way, my lady. Your chariot awaits.”

He led her between rows of cars, his manner solicitous and every inch the gentleman. When the space narrowed too much for them to walk side by side, he let go of her elbow and grasped her hand in his, leading the way.

The feel of his large warm hand around hers distracted Chloe; she bumped into his back when he stopped to reach for his keys. He leaned to unlock
the door and swung it wide, but Chloe couldn’t get in just yet.

First, she had to gawk at the gleaming black convertible. “A T-bird?”

“Sixty-four.” He grinned.

“Vince, it’s beautiful. Do you drive it all the time?”

He lifted one shoulder. “I’m not into museum pieces. If you can’t use it, what’s the good of having it?”

“But aren’t you afraid of—” Chloe stopped herself. “I guess you don’t choose safety, do you?”

Blue eyes speared her. “Never.”

Wishes and needs tumbled together. In that moment, she remembered how safe she’d felt for those few seconds under the oaks. A long gaze passed between them.

Chloe broke the link, stepping toward the car and sliding into the roomy, plush seat. Movement behind him caught her attention. A young female patrol officer with a long, dark braid shot her a look of pure venom.

Vince followed the direction of her glance. “Hey, Sal, what’s up? Doc, this is Sally Davis. Sally, this is Chloe St. Claire.”

The young woman barely nodded at Chloe, her eyes riveted on Vince. The soft plea Chloe witnessed spoke volumes. She wondered if Vince knew Officer Davis was in love with him.

And how much of that love he returned.

He excused himself and stepped away with the younger woman, participating in an intense conversation. His demeanor gave nothing away; he was all business.

But what business? None of hers, she reminded herself.

They finished quickly. The young woman turned to go.

“Nice to meet you, Officer Davis,” Chloe called out.

Murmured politeness warred with the woman’s fierce expression.

Vince climbed into the driver’s seat and started the engine. “You want the top down or up?”

“Either’s fine,” Chloe said. “She’s in love with you.”

“No, she’s not. She just—” He got out, busying himself with the ragtop. His forehead creased. “I was her training officer and I hadn’t been divorced long. I—I didn’t handle things well for a little while there.”

“She fell in love with you, but you were on the rebound.” An old story.

His jaw clenched. “She’s not in love with me, Doc. Stop playing shrink. I made a mistake, all right? It’s been corrected. It was a long time ago.” He finished fastening the top down and got back inside, then shifted the car into gear and pulled away.

Chloe didn’t know why she persisted. “She’s not over you, Vince. Don’t kid yourself.”

Tapping the brakes, he faced her, pain in his gaze. “Look, Doc, I screwed up. I knew better—she was just a kid. I don’t encourage her, and she accepts that this is the way it has to be.” Staring out the windshield, he seemed to contemplate elaborating. Then, shaking his
head, he sighed. “I’m not proud of what I did, and I’ve tried to set things right.”

“I’m sorry, it’s none of my business.”

He exhaled, and tense shoulders settled. “It’s okay. I shouldn’t be so touchy about it.”

“Divorce is never easy, and each person deals with the pain in a different way.” Chloe was surprised at how much she wanted to know about the woman who’d been married to Vince Coronado and had lost him.

He gave the car gas. “No—” his voice tightened “—it’s not easy. A cop’s wife has a bad lot. She never knows each morning when he leaves if she’ll ever see him again. The knowledge eats up a lot of women. A family makes a cop vulnerable, too—if he can’t focus, he’ll blow it. Single is the best state for us.”