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Authors: Carmen Green

BOOK: What a Fool Believes
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Chapter Four
Tia awoke in the strange hotel bed, flat on her back.
Blood thrummed to her heel.
Her life was as beautiful as a train wreck.
After cleaning up and swallowing pain pills with a four-dollar oatmeal energy bar from the minibar, she considered her options.
She could skip work and save the explanation about her impaired state to Chance, her boss.
Or she could give Chance the last reason she needed to fire her.
Tia hated the position she was in. Dante had convinced her to dream big—with him in the picture. And now she was without him and almost out of a job.
Reaching for her keys triggered an instantaneous migraine.
Her car was still at the condo.
Panicking that she might actually lose her job, she hopped to the bed and dialed. “Rachel,” she said when the machine beeped, “pick up.”
Thirty painful seconds passed before Rachel fumbled the phone. “Hey, girl. What's up?”
“I need a huge favor.”
“Right now? I'm kind of”—she hesitated, talking to someone—“in the middle of something.”
Why did she sound so sleepy? And satisfied? “You've got company.”
“Bingo. Bye-bye.”
“Is it Kyle? I thought you two had broken up?”
“We renegotiated the terms of our relationship at about midnight, and I exercised my rights until six a.m.”
Tia couldn't believe her ears. Rachel had wanted to send a “please call” AIDS postcard to Kyle just a few hours ago.
She'd remind her about that on the way to get her car. “I need a ride,” Tia said.
“Where's your car?”
“Don't ask. Can you help me?”
“Tia, what's the matter? Where's your car?”
“Look, meet me outside the Marriott in Buckhead in fifteen minutes. I'll explain on the way.”
“If you're going to tell you me slept with that nasty slug,” Rachel said, her voice filled with reproach, “you may as well start walking.”
Tia grabbed her purse. “Let's just say, I'm having a hard time maneuvering on my crutches.”
“On my way.”
Tia scrambled to pack and call for a bellboy. On her way in last night, she'd seen a gift shop, and there'd been a straw hat in the window. She didn't think she'd been seen at the condo, but the disguise would throw off anyone who might think she looked familiar.
Byron sat in the daily update meeting, scowling at what he knew was the beginning of a bad day.
Captain Chip Hanks circled the square room, belittling officers for one minor infraction or another. He'd come onboard two weeks ago, with the mind-set that he was cleaning up retired Captain Ryan's mess. Hanks had destroyed the morale of what had been a close-knit unit of good officers. So far, three had already put in for transfers.
“What about you, boy wonder?” he said to Byron. “I have an arrest report.” Hanks turned an innocent eye to the rest of the squad. “But no prisoner,” he yelled like a Baptist minister. “We're all interested to know how a 140-pound woman with a gashed foot managed to elude her arresting officer. Slip out of the hospital and off into the night. Why don't we start with her name? What is it again? I seem to have missed it on the report.”
“It's not on there.”
“And why is that?”
“Because I didn't get it. I was too busy calling for an ambulance. I didn't want a dead prisoner.”
“But you took the no prisoner option, right? Funny, that box seems to have been eliminated from the form.”
“The doctor asked to consult with me, and while we were talking, the prisoner slipped away. I screwed up,” he said. “But the last thing I or any of these other officers needs is a condescending boss who thinks belittling us is a substitute for being a good captain.”
“Oh,” Hanks hooted. “If I were you, I'd shut my mouth. You didn't learn much under Ryan, did you?”
Byron stood straight. “You're not good enough to breathe the same air as Captain Ryan.”
“You're skating on very thin ice.”
Byron shrugged. “Not worried about the temperature of the water. You?”
“In my office, now!”
 
“I can't believe you trashed Dante's car.” Rachel glared at Tia disapprovingly. “That's so unlike you.”
“Last night you two were pushing me to beat a brother down. Besides, what about you, Ms. postcard-slinging nut bag?”
“
I
can get crazy. We never expected you to.”
That was nice to know now. “Stop worrying. I'm not a psycho stalking my ex-boyfriend. This was my one and only act of retaliation. What's up with you and Kyle?”
“Girl, making up is better than breaking up.”
“Sick.”
“Yeah,” Rachel agreed. “I know.”
They cruised the lot, heading toward the scene of the crime, as Tia kept a steady eye out the window. The last thing she wanted was for Dante to see her retrieving her car after what she'd done to his.
“So,” Rachel said hesitantly, “how long have you been in the hotel?”
Tia's stomach bubbled awake. “Two days. We were giving each other space.”
“Didn't you buy the condo?”
“I bought it from the bank. His credit was crap after they foreclosed.”
“So why is he there and you're at a hotel?”
“I couldn't kick him out, Rachel. He lived there for two years before we got together. Besides, I thought we'd get back together. Obviously, last night's developments change everything.”
“I'm taking it by the suitcases, you checked out.”
“Right.”
“Where you gonna stay?”
“That's the million-dollar question,” Tia murmured under her breath. She didn't have the money to continue staying at the hotel. Closing on the condo had depleted her sparse funds—along with her recent shopping trip to Neimen's to celebrate her birthday and being a new home owner.
And Tia didn't want to ask Rachel to take her in. They'd been friends for ten years, but Rachel could get flaky. Sometimes she spoke, and sometimes she didn't. Sometimes she wanted to hang out, and sometimes she went into a cave and didn't come out for weeks. Then she'd return to the friendship as if nothing happened.
But Tia looked at Rachel and Megan as the sisters she didn't have. When she wanted them, she didn't want them to be in self-imposed exile.
Her brain scrambled as she struggled to find a good excuse not to ask Rachel.
“Megan won't mind if I crash with her for a bit, until this mess is straightened out. She's closer to the job, too.”
“She'll mind, Tia.”
“What the hell for?”
“She's in a bad place mentally.”
“We all are—”
“With Sonny getting married on her like that, she's taking it hard.”
“I can certainly understand that—”
“And she's having her apartment remodeled. She decided to buy out the owner.”
Oh. Hell.
“When did that happen?”
“Last night, after you left. The owner had been after her for a while. When she called him, he agreed to her counteroffer. The remodeling, which he's paying for, starts tomorrow.”
“So what's up with you and Kyle?”
“We're going to take things slow. I'm not into a commitment mind-set anymore.”
Since when? Tia wanted to ask but didn't. She had her own relationship issues. She could focus only on one set of problems at a time. She still needed a place to stay. “Maybe I could bunk with you for a day or two,” she said quietly.
“No problem.”
Even as Rachel said the words, Tia couldn't help but think she'd just made a big mistake. But she'd have a roof over her head. Then things would be straightened out. They had to be.
“How did you get to the hospital?” Rachel asked, interrupting Tia's musings.
“A-a man came along and ... and he made an offer I couldn't refuse. Over there.”
Rachel stopped the car and hurried to get out.
“I can manage from here, Rach. Thanks. I'll need a key to your place.”
Her often-opinionated friend walked to the rear passenger door. “Don't worry about that. I'll be home every night by the time you get off.”
Tia's eyebrows creased, but she didn't speak.
Just a couple days.
She tried to roll out of the tiny Miata. “Rachel, I'll get the crutches.”
Rachel held them back, staring at her. “You can't drag them
and
you out of the car, so quit. You act like the cops are hunting you down.” Rachel looked at Dante's car and whistled. “Girl, you really did snap.”
Tia glanced but didn't focus. Daylight showcased the work of a truly angry woman. She was over him now. She hobbled to her car, her hands shaking. Calling in sick looked appealing.
“Tia, I think you need to talk to somebody.”
“Rach, not you, too. There's nothing to worry about.”
Spice and sandlewood blended together, stirring distant memories.
“Good morning,
Tia
,” the familiar male voice said, one that had played chase with her in her dreams. “We had a date last night. You got away before I could ask you out again.”
Tia's stomach sank to the bottom of her sore foot. “Go away. You're not my type,” she told the officer.
“Tia!” Rachel screeched. “You're never rude.”
“I am when I'm getting arrested.”
Rachel started gurgling as the plainclothes officer pulled out handcuffs. “I guess that's my opening,” he said. “You have the right to remain silent.... And this time, you won't get away.”
Chapter Five
The black eyes of the American eagle emblazoned on the symbol of justice stared down at Byron, as if holding him in contempt. He'd never seen the inside of the hearing room before and didn't know how officers who'd had complaints lodged against them numerous times could stand it.
Even at six-three, 220 pounds, and thirty-one years of age, he was totally intimidated.
The official surroundings stopped time and crystallized his purpose for being there. He'd been insubordinate. That much was true. With provocation. But would his explanation ever be heard? His career was on the line. Everything he'd achieved in the past five years was in jeopardy.
He and his union representative, Mabrey Jackson, sat on one side of the room, and Captain Hanks on the other, and in the ensuing silence, Byron tried to pinpoint, not for the first time, where he'd gone wrong.
He concentrated hard, not wanting to let the side of himself that rejected everything he didn't believe in take over.
Had things started going wrong when he'd met Tia Amberson two weeks ago?
No, long before that. A year to be exact.
The day, month, and time returned.
His life had been irrevocably changed when he'd collided with LaPrincess Quinellis.
She'd run, literally headfirst, into his cruiser, bloodied and broken by the fists of the man she'd vowed to love forever. She'd been a mess physically. Battered beyond that of even a worst enemy.
He'd thought it fate that she'd rammed his cruiser with her body and he'd gotten to her before her husband. He'd saved her that night and had taken great pleasure in getting two hits in before strapping the cuffs on her husband.
That night he'd surpassed professional detachment and had allowed himself to feel. He'd sat at the hospital with the skittish woman long after his shift was over and had lectured her on the responsibility she had to save her life.
Between getting her broken nose taped and her lacerations sutured, she'd said the right words and promised to love herself more than she loved Gerald.
Byron had left that night, his purpose in life suddenly defined with crystal clarity. His job was to protect and serve.
That night he'd slept well.
Two days later he'd gotten the call at the beginning of his shift. Gerald Quinellis had killed LaPrincess the night before, while Byron dreamed the night away.
As far as Byron was concerned, LaPrincess had played him, strummed his sympathetic emotions, and had died, anyway.
Tia Amberson wouldn't be any different. He'd saved her, and she was probably at that very moment in the arms of the man who'd dogged her.
He looked at the eagle's eyes. He wouldn't be a fool again.
Mabrey leaned toward him. “No outbursts. Don't speak directly to the captain. Let me answer the questions, unless you're otherwise asked. If you get fired”—Mabrey shrugged—“you won't get back in.”
Byron considered his other occupational possibilities. Maybe he could go back to the potato chip company as a delivery driver. Not really what he had in mind.
“Captain Hanks was wrong,” Byron said.
“That unrepentant attitude will ensure unemployment.”
The three-member panel walked in, and everyone stood until the panel was seated.
“Officer Rivers,” Colonel Tulane said, “you've been charged with insubordination to your superior officer. Do you understand this charge?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Are there questions from the panel?”
Dr. Valencia Cole moved first. “Officer Rivers, please explain the details of the incident.”
“On the night of February fourteenth, I attempted to arrest a suspect for vandalism. In the process of the arrest, the suspect became injured.” He cleared his throat. “I thought the suspect was making an aggressive move against me, and I defended myself.”
“You gave her a black eye?” Colonel Berger gave him an astounded look.
Byron pressed ahead. “The suspect was taken to Grady Hospital. During the course of treatment, I was called into a consultation with her doctor. While we were meeting, the suspect fled.”
“Fled?” Colonel Berger questioned. “Fifteen stitches in the foot. Is that correct?”
This wasn't going well, and Mabrey had yet to say a word.
“Yes, sir,” Byron answered.
“How was that possible? I'm assuming she was on crutches.”
“Correct.”
“A full investigation was performed and it looked as if the suspect fled, unaided.”
Captain Hanks scoffed. “That would never happen to an officer who followed the procedure for the apprehension of a suspect. Officer Rivers is not ready to return to patrol. Furthermore—”
Dr. Cole banged her pen sharply on the table. “Please give Officer Rivers a chance to complete his statement, Captain. Thank you.” She pressed on, clear as to who was in charge.
“The suspect was apprehended the following day without incident,” Byron concluded.
Dr. Cole's neatly arched black brows lifted and stood out in stark contrast to her milky complexion. Her gray gaze rested on him. “Would you like to add anything else?”
Byron entertained the notion of telling his boss where he could go, but that was how he'd gotten here in the first place.
“The next day I was reprimanded during roll call, as were other officers.”
“That wasn't a reprimand.” Hanks pushed up straight in his chair, getting louder. “I demanded an explanation. I have no tolerance for renegades.”
“Captain.” Colonel Tulane's stern tone forced the room into a stiff silence. “I've heard enough to render a decision.”
Byron and the still silent Mabrey stood.
“Officer Rivers, you are required to attend sixty hours of anger management classes and are suspended for three days for failure to follow the proper arrest procedures. The other charges are dropped.”
“Yes, sir! Sir?”
Colonel Berger looked up. No one dared speak after a decision had been rendered. “Yes, Officer?”
“I'm scheduled to testify at 1600 hundred hours on the case associated with this incident.”
“It's 1630 now.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Were you the only officer to respond on that case?”
“Yes, sir.”
Colonel Berger regarded him. “The suspension will begin immediately following that hearing, and I don't care if there's a riot outside the capitol. You are not to respond. Clear?”
“Yes, sir!”
“Pick up the information regarding the class at Dr. Cole's office. You are dismissed.”
“Thank you, sirs. Ma'am.”
“This is an atrocity,” Hanks bellowed. “That officer was insubordinate, and he should be terminated.”
“Captain Hanks.” The colonel's voice felt like a cool steel pipe to a warm hand. “In light of your reaction to Officer Rivers and the rest of your squad, we have some real concerns about your abuse of power. Call your representative. You are officially under investigation.”
Byron heard Hanks yell, “What?” then start sputtering. Good. Maybe he'd shut up for a minute.
One glance at his watch and Byron moved just short of a trot. He had three buildings and four floors to cross in order to testify in Tia Amberson's case.
He started to jog.
After what he'd been through, she wasn't going to get off easy. Not by a long shot.

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