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“You knew this morning and didn’t tell me, Lara?” Nick flew to his feet. “I’m going to see Julio.”
“No,” Girard said. Lara quickly blocked the door, dog at her side, and placed her hand on Nick’s arm.
“Your partner took an antitank round, Detective,” Girard said. “The M.E. says he died on impact of the round, long before the car submerged. Officer Nelson just came from the morgue.”
“You should have told me!” he said angrily, shaking off her grasp.
“Trust me, Detective, you don’t want to see his body. I wish I hadn’t,” Lara said bluntly.
An uneasy silence filled the office until Girard said, “You’ve got work to do. Best get going.”
Lara stayed in front of the door, still shadowed by her dog. “Captain, if you could have your assistant e-mail those ballistics reports to me? Here’s my card.”
Nick was grateful for the interruption as Lara passed his boss the business card with her official cell phone and office number, e-mail address, title and K-9 Department unit number. It wasn’t until they were outside in the parking lot that she spoke again.
“Well, we’ve made some progress today,” she said matter-of-factly.
“I still would have liked finding out earlier. Next time you get a call from the station, let me know. I want information about Julio when it comes in, got it?”
She didn’t argue nor make excuses. “Agreed.”
Using the remote on her key chain, Lara unlocked the Mercedes door as they approached. Sadie shoved her nose under the back door handle, lifted it and opened the door, standard training for police dogs. Next she grabbed the rubber ring attached to the inside door handle and closed it herself, just as she did in Lara’s squad car. Lara took the driver’s seat like before, and Nick climbed in. He couldn’t drop the subject.
“You should have told me they’d recovered the body. And that the autopsy had been performed. I had every right to know. Every right to see Julio’s body.”
Lara faced his accusation head-on. “If I were you, I’d be furious.”
“I’m way past furious. It was my call, my partner.”
“Not today, Detective.” She closed her eyes, then opened them. “For God’s sake, don’t let his wife and kids see what I saw.” Her voice was calm, but it took her two tries to get the key into the ignition. Nick didn’t miss it.
“You okay?” he asked, his anger gone.
She actually smiled. “I should be asking you that.”
“Want me to drive?”
“Nope. I’m fine.” Lara took a breath and turned the key. “Besides, I’ve taken the bodyguard-driving course. I can drive like a Hollywood stunt driver. Sadie might get bored with you at the wheel.” She attempted a lighter mood that failed, but impressed him just the same. “Which reminds me, I arranged to have Julio’s motorcycle temporarily stored in Impound. As your bodyguard, I don’t want you exposed. I could have told you that earlier, too.”
“Oh, the bike. I need to take care of it. I have a storage unit near Julio’s place. I was always there…” His voice trailed off.
“Later. For now, let’s head for your apartment so you can pick up your things.” They fastened their seat belts and Lara automatically locked all the doors. “Hope you’re not a fresh-air fiend like Sadie,” she said, turning the air-conditioning on high. “She likes to hang out the window. It’s bad for eyes and ears.”
“No problem,” he said, appreciating the comfort of the leather seats.
Lara pulled through the parking lot and to the stop-light-regulated exit onto the main drag. She stopped at the red light. “What’s the quickest way to your place?”
“I’d take—”
He never finished his sentence. Gunfire slammed into the driver’s-side door of the Mercedes. The door collapsed, glass cracked, then a second and third shot hit the back of the car as Lara cut the steering wheel hard and jammed the car into reverse, gunning it backward and away from the source of gunfire. Nick drew his gun and frantically searched for the shooter, but could see nothing through the mottled glass of his section of the car.
In seconds the attack was over. Police officials ran to the Mercedes, Sadie barking furiously at them. As Lara brought the car to a complete stop, Nick slowly reholstered his gun to stare at the windows—cracked but still in one piece. His gaze met Lara’s.
“Whoever this rock star is…I have got to start buying his albums.”
CHAPTER THREE
“I’LL HAVE TO REPLACE two windows. And the armored body. My insurance better cover this,” Lara stated as the Mercedes was towed to the police impound yard to join Julio’s motorcycle. Sadie sat behind them in Lara’s squad car, which a fellow officer had retrieved for her, her nose pointed toward Lara, ears perked and alert for any command. A crowd of police officers, including Captain Girard, buzzed about.
“Insurance?” Nick said. “Someone fired three shots at us, no suspect is found and all you worry about is insurance?”
“Do you know how much bulletproof glass costs?”
“Done venting?”
“Yeah, I guess.” Lara sighed. “I don’t care about the car, anyway. I’m just upset. We were shot at with rounds that would stop a dinosaur!”
Captain Girard interjected. “Lara, calm down. We’ll get him.”
“Him? Her? We didn’t see a thing!”
Nick laid a casual hand on her shoulder as Girard spoke, his voice confident. “I’m going with a man. Statistically, most women kill in self-defense on domestic turf. Men are much more liable to kill in public, and this—” he gestured toward the expansive downtown police parking lot “—is about as public as it gets.”
Lara nodded.
“Cantello,” Girard ordered, “you and Nelson get out of here—and out of your houses. Nelson, call for a safe house. It’s moving day for both of you. We’ll touch base later.”
“I’ve sent a squad car ahead with a couple of my buddies,” Nick said to Lara.
“When did you do that?”
“A few minutes ago. We’ll meet them at my place first, then yours.”
“I’m in charge of your safety. You shouldn’t be giving the orders,” Lara immediately said.
“You shouldn’t be in morgues or doing detective work,” Girard insisted. “You’re as white as a ghost.”
Lara didn’t like the tone of the older man’s voice. “Hey, I’ve been shot at. I’m entitled to a little adrenaline. And I’ve got questions! Are we dealing with Julio’s murderer or something totally different? My window took the shots, not yours. What if we have a serial cop killer on our hands?”
“Don’t get hysterical, Officer.”
Lara’s mouth opened, but before she could honestly protest, someone called out Girard’s name and he turned away. Nick gently pushed her toward her squad car.
“Drop it, Nelson. And get in.” He jerked a thumb at the passenger side. “This time, I’m driving.”
LARA SHIFTED in her seat during the drive, her nerves still raw—and aware that both her dog and the man driving had picked up on it. Nick kept flicking her quick glances, while Sadie, in back, kept her long nose near Lara’s neck, past the open grill that, when locked, separated a prisoner from the officers in front. The remote control could pop open the back door, as well, when a quick exit was needed.
“Are we almost there?” she asked.
The corners of Nick’s lips twitched. “You sound like Julio’s kids. Next you’ll be wanting ice cream.”
“Ha, ha,” she replied, feeling more of her courage flow back into her spine. “Still, it’s better than being accused of being hysterical. Talk about old school.” Girard’s comment still stung.
“Girard is old school.” Nick glanced at her. “You ever been shot at before?”
“Never.”
“First time for me, too. Guess we’re not virgins anymore.”
Lara deliberately made her voice light. “Another milestone in a cop’s life.”
“Well, you handled yourself well. Drove us out of the line of fire. Plus that fishtail spin so the shooter had a smaller area of car to hit. Excellent work, lady.”
“You, too, Detective,” Lara admitted. “I saw you draw your weapon and check for our shooter. All out of the corner of my hysterical little right eye.”
“I’ll take your hysterical over others’ calm any day.” Nick flicked on his signal light. “We’re here,” he announced, then gestured at the other squad car waiting for them. “And there’re my guys.” Nick pulled up into an oil-stained driveway in front of a faded apartment complex. It was definitely older, but maintained well.
“You live here?” Lara asked, surprised. She took in the old trees, their roots making cracks in the sidewalk. They were just a part of the many concrete areas, including the driveways and carports, where children played in lieu of yards or parks. Water in San Diego was expensive, as was irrigation. Grass refused to grow on just air and sunlight. Landlords knew that—and children tore it up, anyway. Better to mount swing sets in cement and let the parents deal with skinned knees.
“Not La Jolla, but it’s home,” Nick said casually.
“I’m no snob. I meant that this place looks more like it’s for families. Pets, kids, picnic tables. Swing sets and slides.”
“Julio and his wife used to live here until they found a bigger place. I moved in. My last place was bulldozed for condos and the management company takes good care of this place.” He shrugged, then reached for the mike as the car’s radio crackled with confirmation from the other two officers that they’d searched his apartment, courtesy of the landlord’s key, and the premises were secure.
“Would you mind leaving Sadie in the car?” Nick asked.
“Actually, I would. Sadie’s like my badge and gun—they rarely leave my side.”
“I wouldn’t ask, but I’ve got a cat, and he’s not too good with dogs,” Nick said.
“Oh. Well, since we already have men here.”
In German, Lara ordered Sadie to stay in and guard the car, which was parked in the shade with open windows. Nick and Lara went through the open courtyard filled with dead leaves, gum wrappers, bikes, toys and the accompanying children. Some shouted out his name and waved. He smiled, caught and returned a tossed football.
Lara actually jumped as an aged cat emerged from behind the potted cactus near his door. As it hissed and arched its gray back, Nick met her gaze.
“Calm down, Nelson. It’s only my cat.”
“I’m calm, and is that what this is?”
“Yep.” To her surprise, Nick bent over and scooped the wild-looking thing up into one hand, while with the other reached for his mailbox on the stucco outer wall. “I don’t have the wife or kids yet, but I do have the pet. Someday…”
Lara blinked, thinking of Jim and the family they’d planned. Only, she’d wanted a family dog for the children, not a scarred feline with defiantly unsheathed claws. The animal had obviously been through some rough times, had probably tangled with San Diego’s coyotes, which shared the heavy areas of population due to habitat destruction; their only source of water was automatic city sprinklers. Adult coyotes learned the hours they went on and off, females taught their pups. Generations of coyotes who’d lost their fear of man trekked through the streets like so many stray dogs. Trouble was, these animals lived off fruit from the local citrus trees and mammals, including small domestic pets. Even fenced yards weren’t protection.
“You picked out this cat?” she asked.
“He picked out me…used to live next door. The last tenants left him behind. The new ones couldn’t take him in. Their youngest is allergic.”
“Poor thing.”
“The cat or the child?”
“Both.” Lara couldn’t imagine a life without animals, but she didn’t venture closer to pet the feline. Smelling of dog, she wasn’t about to socialize with this set of claws.
“The child is happy, and this cat is old and doesn’t like kids, anyway. He’s been fixed, I get him his shots, and he’s content to hang here.”
“That’s good. I doubt the shelter would consider a war-torn veteran like him adoptable,” Lara observed.
He stroked the gray head once, then set the cat down and opened his door.
“What’s his name?”
“The old tenants just called him ‘the cat.’” Nick unlocked the door. “It’s all he’ll answer to. Come on in.”
The gray tiger streaked by her as she stepped inside. It immediately made its way to the kitchen at the other end of the living room. After a quick shuffle, Nick tossed his mail on the coffee table.
“They’ve already searched the place, so make yourself at home. I’ll grab my things,” Nick said.
Lara felt tempted by the comfortable, padded recliner. Murder, the morgue and a bullet-riddled Mercedes had made for a rough day, she thought, as she studied the room. The inside of Nick’s place was a pleasant contrast to the shabbier courtyard outside. She took in the neat surroundings, freshly painted walls, clean carpet and the dust-free furniture. As she waited, she realized the room held few touches of its owner. There were no magazines or newspapers carelessly scattered, no photographs on the wall, no personal mementos anywhere.
If it weren’t for a single boating magazine and mail on the coffee table, she could have been in a nice hotel and never known the difference. Lara’s gaze wandered about, her eyes troubled. There had to be something that spoke of the man who lived there. She saw nothing except a cat without a name.
“Everything meet with your approval?” Nick asked suddenly.
Lara turned to see him watching her, a nylon gym bag and plastic suit carrier slung over his arm.
“I was trying to learn more about you,” she admitted.
“Any success?”
“Nope. You don’t even have a television. A room like this—” she gestured with one hand, and met his gaze “—seems so sterile.”
“My cleaning lady lives in the complex. She’s a neat freak—even for her profession. I lent my TV to the tenant across the complex. He’s home alone on worker’s comp with a broken leg.” Nick looked around his place with new eyes. “Besides, I’m not here much. Julio’s wife keeps a spare room for me at her place and gave me a key. Most of my personal stuff’s there.”
She nodded.
“I’ve got to feed the cat.”
He set his two bags by the door and walked to the kitchen visible from the living area. The feline immediately jumped off the counter to rub against his legs, purring all the while. Lara watched from the living room.
Quietly she asked, “Tell me about your partner.”
Nick opened a cabinet and removed a can of tuna. He opened the can, then set it on the floor. It wasn’t until he threw away the lid and leaned against the counter that he replied, “What’s to say?” Nick’s expression was as sterile as the home he lived in. “We were close. Now he’s dead. I haven’t talked to the family yet. His wife may or may not kick me out of their home. I don’t know.”
“I meant professionally—regarding this case,” Lara explained. “Like enemies, money problems… I’m sorry, I should have specified.”
“It’s been a wild morning,” he said, his law-enforcement manner back to normal.
