Savage Betrayal Read online

  As she reached the top floor, she rested a hand on the push handle of the hallway door. The flowers. What the hell? He wasn't a woman. He wasn't her lover. Worse yet, he was an ex-lover. Tossing them in a corner trash, she pressed open the door and looked for the sign that directed her to room 413.

  The eyes of a few passing nurses landed on Nickie's badge. They nodded before moving on to their next room. The beat cop assigned to sit outside Eddy's room was standing in what she liked to think of as a drill sergeant stance. No chair. Knees locked. Feet apart. Hands behind his back. "Good morning, Officer..." She squinted as she read his name badge. "Corelli. How is the patient?"

  Before he could answer, Eddy called from inside the room. "Hey, Nick." His voice was strong for someone who had been in a coma. It was good to hear it. "I'm naked as shit," he said through the door. "Go get us some coffee. I'll get dressed. It feels like I haven't had any java in a week." And he was joking?

  "On it," she answered and shrugged to the beat cop. Tracing her steps back to the basement, she glanced at the stems of the flowers and almost dug them out of the trash. What was the matter with her? She didn't know how to do partner-is-awake-from-coma; that was what the matter was. Warm and fuzzy, she was not.

  The echo of her boots on the concrete steps brought back the image of when she found him in the stairwell that led down to the county jail. Lying there for who knew how long, bleeding to death. Why had he been interrogating Zheng without another officer or detective present? Without her?

  Not that she hadn't interrogated Zheng alone before, but she hadn't been dumb enough to take him out of his cell. Alone. Leaving Zheng with the chance to take her frigging gun and shoot her in a stairwell.

  As she reached the basement level, the flashes of Eddy lying at the bottom of the stairs became like photographs. Not like eidetic memory Duncan Reed pictures or anything, but enough to make her shiver.

  She stepped around the imaginary Eddy Lynx and opened the basement door, heading for the coffee vending machine. The ADA was right. Eddy was loyal and driven. And bossy and arrogant. But he'd had her back enough times that she owed it to him to forget the bossy and arrogant.

  Nothing could ever make her drink coffee, so she filled just the one auto java and headed back to the fourth floor. Before she made it halfway, a door above slammed against the concrete wall and was followed by the quick steps of feet racing down the stairs.

  Placing her hand on her .45, she took it off safety and pressed against the side wall. What was it with stairwells lately? She supposed when you didn't use elevators, you got stuck in stairwell drama.

  It was the beat cop barreling down the steps. Spotting her, his feet stopped before the rest of him, causing him to stick his arms out to catch his balance.

  Her brows lifted as she waited for an explanation.

  "Sir," he panted and looked from one corner of the small area to another. "Ma'am. I mean Detective Savage." Fire extinguisher to the right. Railing to the left. Poured concrete walls. What was he looking for? "Detective Lynx told me to come find you. That you had trouble."

  Oh no. The muscles in her face dropped. She could only think of one reason why Eddy would tell that lie, and the reason was laced with deceit.

  She took off up the stairs, forcing her mind to come up with other, more honorable reasons he might have sent the guard after her. Was he in trouble? Did he have something to hide? Was he the department mole?

  Her feet halted. She didn't tell them to. The beat officer almost ran into her back.

  "Detective?"

  Squeezing her eyes shut, she kicked herself for letting her brain go back to disloyal thoughts. She shook her head and started up the last flight. The shuffling of several sets of soft shoes through the upcoming hallway did nothing to help her suspicions. As she opened the door, she noted the white-jacketed nurses and doctors as they rushed from one room to another.

  He was gone. Eddy was gone.

  He sent her on a dummy errand, then his guard on a wild goose chase so he could slip out. As she strolled among the panicked employees, she decided to give one last attempt at a reason for doing so and turned to the beat cop. "Was there anyone in the room with him when he asked for me to get the coffee?" Maybe someone holding a gun to his head, forcing him to do what he did?

  "No, ma'am," the officer answered. His expression told her he suspected what she suspected.

  "You were standing outside of the room. Are you sure?"

  "I'm very sorry, Detective. He called me into the room and then told me to go find you." Corelli looked pained, but he added, "The bathroom door was open. No one was in the room or in the bathroom. He was alone, ma'am."

  Nickie nodded as she forced her legs to move toward room 413. The charge nurse was yelling at everyone. She guessed that made sense. The hospital hadn't had that many patients placed with a guard let alone one who escaped. What was protocol? Not that Eddy had been under guard because he was a prisoner. It was for his safety. He'd been shot by Jun Zheng, who remained free.

  For now.

  Standing in the middle of Eddy's hospital room, her head beat out her heart. "That bastard," she said as she stood dazed with the rush of nurses and doctors going on around her. How could he do this?

  "Detective?"

  What did he have to hide? And why would he hide it from her?

  "Detective?"

  She'd been nothing but loyal to Eddy. Her feet started pacing, and her shoulders dripped with the weight of betrayal. His apartment. She would go there. Do a search. His office, too. Find a motive, and hope it wasn't what she suspected.

  "Detective!"

  Nickie glanced up and noticed the two nurses and the doctor she was trying to ignore. "People," Nickie said with as much authority as she could muster. "We have a Northridge, New York police detective on the loose who is recovering from a nearly fatal gunshot wound and drugs strong enough to keep him in a coma." They glanced at each other with gaping confusion. Nickie gazed from one side of the room to the other.

  There. She found just what she needed. Officer Corelli. "The officer serving as Detective Lynx's guard will, therefore, be in charge of securing the area and of the debriefing."

  The officer stared at her like she had three eyes.

  "I'll be initiating an APB," she lied. This would be kept under wraps until she could figure out what the hell was going on. Regardless, all three of them barked questions and demands at her. Nickie ignored them, spun around and marched out the door.

  Chapter 3

  As she stomped up the concrete stairwell of the station, Nickie shook the morning drizzle from her hair and plotted her game plan with the captain. A warrant wouldn't be needed, she justified in her head. She wouldn't even mention the word warrant. Stick with your story, Nick. This was a missing person's case. Simple as that. A man left the hospital while under the influence of drugs that were strong enough to keep him out for close to a week. And, not just a man, but a colleague and detective of the department.

  She would get permission to break in and search for him in his apartment. To confiscate his home and work computers. For clues to his whereabouts. To keep him safe.

  And if she happened to find evidence of wrongdoing or that he was a backstabbing department mole reporting Nickie's every move to a paid source, that would be an accident and permissible in a court of law. Wrongdoing, she thought as she pushed open the door to the top floor of the station. What she suspected him of doing could hardly be classified as simple wrongdoing.

  She stepped into the commons area, and all eyes turned her away. There was only one set of eyes she cared about. ADA Miranda Vaughn. Nickie dug in her heels, but made sure the ADA noted the slight nod in Nickie's head motioning toward the captain's office.

  "Late start, Detective?" asked the desk clerk stationed outside of Nickie's office.

  "Bite me," Nickie answered and marched past her still-dark office. Ignoring Eddy's dark office wasn't quite as easy. Her feet stopped and she nearly detoured for
a quick look inside. Treachery scraped at her gut. A large figure came out of her captain's office, cell phone stuck to his ear. Captain Dave Nolan motioned to the both of them with his free hand. Get your asses in here was what it said. Uh oh. Without speaking, she and Miranda followed.

  "I understand this is an unorthodox situation," he said into his phone, back facing them as she and Miranda sank into two of the leather chairs that sat in front of his desk. "However, a missing detective takes precedence over protocol. Officer Corelli is completely qualified to man the situation." Ending the phone call, he turned to face them and set his cell on his desk. No goodbye? It was good to know he was on her side.

  "What the hell do you think you're doing, Nick?"

  Or maybe not so much.

  "Sir, he left."

  He hated when she called him that.

  "They've had him drugged up enough to keep him out for nearly a week. I'm worried about him. He must still be half-loopy. I'd like to ask permission to look for him. Break into his apartment if I need to. Search through his home and work computers."

  "Just left?" Dave looked at her and tilted his head to the side. "What aren't you telling me, Nick?"

  Nickie inhaled deeply, then let out a long sigh. She pressed her knuckles against her jaw, turning her head until her neck cracked, then said as fast as she could. "He sent me on a wild goose chase."

  "Excuse me?"

  She ran a hand over the top of her head, then grabbed the back of her neck. "I never saw him," she said like a confession. "He heard my voice before I came in his hospital room. He yelled from inside that he was naked and wanted coffee. I didn't want to see him naked, so I headed down to the cafeteria to get his coffee. On my way up, the officer standing guard at his door came tearing down the stairs with his gun drawn. Eddy told him there was trouble. Eddy told him I was in trouble."

  Dave sat back in his chair and steepled his fingers. "He sent you both away so he could get away?"

  Closing her eyes, Nickie nodded before she asked the question she was afraid to. "Do I need a warrant to break into his apartment?"

  Dave dropped his chin and considered for longer than Nickie would have liked. "He was mindful enough to concoct this scheme."

  "This is a missing person's case," Miranda interrupted. "A life is in danger. Detective or no detective, a person who is under the residual effects of coma-inducing narcotics cannot be acting fully of his own accord. There is no need for a warrant."

  "Great," Dave said. "I have two women with a conflict of interest giving me legal advice." He waved them on anyway. She hoped she wouldn't ruin his trust in her.

  "Let's go, Nickie," Miranda said. "I'll drive."

  * * *

  Nickie didn't speak on the way over. Her brain fought her. Eddy. The mole? What other reason could he have had to do this? Pieces started fitting together. Pieces she didn't want to fit together.

  The occasional swipe of delayed wipers distracted her. It was a good thing. She didn't know what to say to Miranda. It wasn't like she was going to tell her there was a department mole. That someone had been watching Nickie and reporting her every move to an employee that worked for her father. The employee who was now six feet under. This had more layers than she cared to sort.

  "You're quiet," Miranda said. "You're quiet, and something is off."

  Nickie slung a boot over her knee. "How so?"

  "A colleague. No, your partner. No, your friend is missing and drugged. He still has serious injuries, and you seem to have no emotion whatsoever."

  Nickie glanced over and noted the black smudges beneath the ADA's eyes. It wasn't that she didn't care. It was more that she couldn't afford to. She rubbed a hand over her face. Any evidence of wrongdoing found in Eddy's apartment needed to be incidental. In order for that to happen, Nickie had to keep Miranda in the dark.

  "He's my partner. Of course I have emotion. I'm focused, that's all." It wasn't a lie. "Let's go find him."

  Miranda pulled into the parking space in front of Eddy's apartment. Nickie noted new paint around the front door. Or, was it a new frame altogether? Regardless, she banked it in her memory. She would not be able to take written or audio notes on this search. This wasn't an investigation. They were simply trying to find a friend.

  The air was cool and the drizzle came down harder. As they exited the vehicle, Miranda pulled her suit jacket up and over her smooth ponytail. Nickie lifted her chin to the sky and let the water cool her face.

  As Miranda hurried to the front door, Nickie rounded the back of the vehicle. She popped the trunk and searched under the mat for what she was looking for.

  "What are you doing?" Miranda called from the cover of the front door awning.

  There it was, Nickie thought, hand wrapping around cold iron. She didn't answer. Instead, she closed the trunk and slung the crowbar she'd retrieved over her shoulder. Heading around the car in the rain, she stopped when she got to Eddy's door. She stuck the crowbar in the doorjamb, but then realized she might not need it. Setting the crowbar on the concrete next to her, she pulled out her set of keys. Could she still have it? And if so, would it work? There it was. Her old key to Eddy's apartment.

  Miranda didn't seem surprised. More like she was relieved that Nickie was no longer going to break down the door. Nickie hadn't used the key in years. Quietly making a wish, she sighed as the key turned, and the lock released.

  Nickie knocked as she cracked open the door. "Hello," she called and opened it farther. Everything was dark. Shades drawn. "Eddy? It's Nickie and Miranda. We're worried about you, man."

  Something smelled rotten. Fruit? Old pizza? At least it wasn't the scent of a dead body. Nickie was prepared for anything. "You wait here," she commanded Miranda. "I'm gonna take a look around."

  Miranda grabbed hold of Nickie's upper arm. "I'm afraid I'm not comfortable with that."

  Oh good grief. "He's still drugged. It's not safe."

  "I'm afraid I'm still not comfortable with it."

  Nickie didn't have time for this and stepped in with Miranda hanging onto her arm. The apartment was small. A single picture of Eddy holding a large catfish hung in the center of the longest living room wall. It looked like a postage stamp on a large white envelope. She used the short hallway to get to the small walk-through kitchen and noted stacks of dirty dishes that appeared like they'd been there since before he was admitted to the hospital. Wandering through, she checked the kitchenette on the other side. The small, wooden table with two chairs sat empty.

  The short hallway also led to the only bedroom. Everything smelled like bachelor. He hadn't moved a single piece of furniture since the last time she'd been there. The place was as small as the townhouse she'd lived in before she married Duncan. And if she admitted it, was just as messy. She checked the closets, under the bed, and in the bathroom.

  No signs that anyone had been there for days, maybe weeks.

  Did he really have no one to come and take care of this stuff? And why didn't she know more about his life? A wave of guilt trickled through her. Or was the lack of history purposeful? Was it part of his cover? She had to quit hypothesizing.

  Nickie looked down and noted Miranda still had hold of her upper arm. Tears streamed down each of her cheeks. "It's going to be okay," Nickie lied. She spoke the obvious. "He's not here. I'm going to search for signs of where he might be. I need you to get to the station and start looking through his office computer." It was the best idea Nickie could come up with. She needed Miranda to back up her warrantless break-in, and now she needed to be alone to do what was next.

  Miranda nodded. "How will you get home?"

  Oh, right. Miranda drove. "I know people," Nickie said and smiled.

  Without warning, Miranda threw her arms around her.

  Nickie's eyes almost popped out of her head. She held her arms out to the side. This is what Nickie got for being friends with a female. "Um... there, there," she said and patted Miranda's shoulder three times with her fingertips. It seemed to a
ppease Miranda as she sniffled, nodded, then walked like a zombie out the front door without even closing it.

  * * *

  Nickie stood in the doorway between the bedroom and the master bath. Bed unmade. TV remote thrown in the middle of the bed. Bathroom empty. Toilet seat up, shower curtain open with a film of orange mildew growing around the edges. It helped that Miranda wasn't hanging onto her upper arm. She could go into search warrant mode. Well, minus the search warrant.

  No signs of foul play, missing persons or that Eddy might be a mole spying on Nickie for her father's sake. She was his partner. If she had an ounce of social skill, she would have offered to take care of his apartment and none of this would have been necessary. Now, she stood wondering if his name was even Eddy Lynx. Her chin dropped. She would have Duncan do a thorough background check that weekend when he came back from L.A.

  Taking a deep breath, she lifted her head high and continued. Clothes were strewn on the floor, and a few live rounds and a magazine were tossed on the only dresser in the bedroom. The clip was full. She could see the bullets lined inside from where she stood.

  As if a search beam had been flipped on, light poured from the hallway behind her. In a kneejerk reaction, she took one large step and pressed against the wall inside the bedroom door. Miranda had left the front door unlatched. Wind could have swung it open.

  Except, then why weren't her feet moving? Because she was executing a search without backup. Because there was nothing standing between her and the front door other than a short apartment hallway. She wasn't just searching for a department mole; she was also searching for a person who may be involved with murder.

  She placed her ear closer to the hall, stopping at the doorway trim. She leaned over and looked with a single eye. The hallway was clear. Sliding her Smith and Wesson out of her holster, she took aim. With gun drawn and arms extended, she twirled around and faced the light head-on. Her knees were soft as she took a step, then another and another.

  As she listened for footsteps or the creak of a floorboard, she watched for moving shadows. If there were even a slight wind in the midst of the light drizzle, she would feel better about all of this.