Acquainted With the Night (16 page)

He gave a bitter laugh. “What, do you think I’m a fucking moron? I oughta…”

At that moment, the door to the ladies’ room opened. Jo Adamcyzk stepped out into the hall.

Fullerton jerked his head around as his right hand dove under his left shoulder.
Oh, hell
. He was carrying his backup gun.

Alex waited an extra split second until she saw the butt of his semiautomatic in his fingers.

“Gun!” she shouted. “Roger, don’t…”

She moved into him, trying to get a grip on his right arm before he could clear his holster.

He shoved her hard with his left arm, and Alex staggered backward.

At the same instant Frank and Chris both yelled, “Drop the gun!”

Fullerton saw Frank first because he was already looking toward Jo Adamcyzk. Jo dove toward the corner as Frank eased out enough to point his gun at Fullerton.

“No!” Alex yelled.

The next moment, Fullerton fired, just an instant before Chris Andersen plowed into him from behind. Alex jumped toward Fullerton, focused again on his gun arm.

Chris had him down on his belly, and Alex, keeping clear of his line of fire, stepped hard on his right wrist. He gave a little scream and released the weapon. Alex scooped it up and pulled her own revolver, pointing it at the back of his skull.

“You twitch and I’ll blow your head off!” she rasped.

Chris got to her feet, her foot firmly planted in the small of his back. “Son of a bitch,” she panted.

“I’ve got him. Cuff him!” Alex barked at her.

Chris put her weapon away and pulled out her handcuffs. He yelped again when she pulled his right hand behind his back and she muttered, “Shut the fuck up.”

They got him to his feet and Alex did a brief but thorough pat down, ignoring his mixture of curses and painful grunts.

“You broke my goddamn wrist!” he spat.

Chris pushed him up against the wall and growled, “I don’t want to hear one more single fucking word from you.”

Alex took a deep breath and called out, “You guys okay?”

From down the hallway, Jo’s shaky voice responded, “Morelli’s hit.”

Chris cried out, “Jesus!”

“Stay with Fullerton,” Alex ordered her firmly, and went down the hall.

She found Jo with her weapon out, standing protectively over Frank. She looked as shaken as she had sounded.

“Adamcyzk,” Alex said, keeping her voice even. “Go call nine-one-one, then call the watch commander downstairs and give him a report. Tell him Fullerton is in custody, to send the paramedics up here as soon as they arrive.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Jo said and ran toward the bullpen.

She knelt by Frank. “How are you doing?”

Frank was propped up against the wall. His olive skin was pale and his mouth was tight with pain, but he said, “Don’t think it’s too bad, Cap.”

“Let me see it, okay?” Alex asked gently.

She eased his jacket off his right arm. There was blood on his shirtsleeve and the side of his shirt. She unbuttoned his shirt and saw the wound in his side. The bullet had skittered across his ribcage, but it didn’t seem to have penetrated his chest. The bleeding wasn’t very profound.

“Can you move your arm?” she asked.

He flexed his fingers, then made a fist and was able to lift his arm, grimacing as he did so.

“Any trouble breathing?” Alex asked. “Take a deep breath.”

He did, and then released it without difficulty.

“You’re right,” she said reassuringly. “It’s not bad. It looks like what they used to call in the those old westerns ‘a flesh wound.’ You’ll be okay, Frank.” She made an effort to sound relaxed and in control.

“If you say so, Cap,” he said, and flinched. “Do me a favor, huh? Go back and check on Andersen?”

She nodded and patted him briefly on his uninjured shoulder. When she went around the corner, she saw Fullerton up against the wall between the two elevators with Chris on one side facing him, Jo on the other.

Alex walked calmly toward them. To her relief, Fullerton’s face looked unmarked. At least Chris hadn’t used him for a punching bag.

“Paramedics will be here in a minute,” Jo reported.

“How is Frank?” Chris demanded, her voice a little unsteady.

“He’s going to be fine. It’s minor,” Alex reassured her.

“Really?”

“Really.”

A look of profound relief crossed Chris’ face. “That’s a good thing for you,” she muttered to Fullerton.

“Bitch,” Fullerton responded.

Alex stepped closer to him and said, “Shut up, Roger. You are under arrest. You have the right to remain silent, so I strongly recommend you use it. You have the right to an attorney and to have one present during questioning. If you cannot afford one…”

She finished reciting his Miranda rights, then said to Chris, “Get him downstairs. I’m sick and tired of looking at his drunken face.”

“A pleasure.” Chris jerked him by one arm. “C’mon, dickhead, let’s walk down.”

The paramedics came out of the elevator and Alex got them to Frank. Then Jo said to her, “Captain, I’m so sorry. This was all my fault.”

Alex turned to her. “Listen to me very carefully, Detective.” Her tone was firm. “That was just bad luck, pure and simple. You’re allowed to use the ladies’ room, and you had no idea what was happening. If it’s anybody’s fault, it’s mine. I should have checked the restrooms, we just ran out of time.”

Jo shook her head. “I still feel responsible.”

“Well, get over it. Fullerton was a time bomb, and it could have happened regardless of what you did or didn’t do. When it did happen, you kept your head. You got under cover and when Frank was hit, you were ready to protect your fellow officer. You followed orders and you did fine under fire. All right?”

“Yes,” Jo said, and she seemed to relax a little. “Thank you, Captain.”

It was a mess. Frank had been hurt and one of her detectives was going to face criminal charges. On the plus side, Alex told herself ruefully, Fullerton was going to be permanently out of her hair, it looked like Frank was going to be okay and she knew that Jo Adamcyzk wouldn’t panic the next time somebody took a shot at her.

But mostly she was happy about Chris Andersen keeping herself under control. When she had every reason to shoot Fullerton, she’d tried to take him down without using deadly force, and she’d managed not to beat the hell out of him when Alex knew how much she wanted to, something Alex hadn’t been quite sure of before.
You’d be proud of me, CJ, seeing the glass half-full like this.

* * *

When Alex got to Frank’s house that evening, there were already a couple of cars outside, parked at the curb. She was a little surprised. She’d called Jennifer Morelli to see if Frank was up for company, but Jennifer hadn’t mentioned other visitors.

Jennifer greeted her at the door, saying, “Alex. Please come in and join the crowd. They’re back in the family room. You want coffee or something?”

“No, thanks,” Alex said, hugging her hello. “How’s he doing?”

“Oh, he’s fine, the big ham. You’d have thought he was in a two-hour firefight, instead of one little nick in the side.”

But Alex could see the worry behind her eyes.

“Hey,” Alex said gently. “I know how hard it is to get that phone call, Jennifer, and I’m truly sorry.”

Jennifer gave her an assessing look, and said, “You really do know, don’t you? You went through it. After all, you’re married to a cop too, aren’t you?”

Alex looked at her, a little startled, and then laughed a little bit. “You know, I never thought of it that way before.”

Frank was propped up in his recliner, his right side bulky with bandages. On the couch were Chris and Beth. In the other chair, to Alex’s surprise, was Jo Adamcyzk. All three women stood when Alex entered, and Beth went over to hug her.

“Oh, Captain Ryan,” she said quietly. “How are you doing? We’ve been so worried about you.”

Alex looked over her shoulder at Chris, who had the grace to look embarrassed. What on earth had Chris been telling Beth about her? That Alex had been a complete zombie bitch for the last eight months? Not that that wasn’t pretty much true.

“I’m okay,” Alex said to Beth. “And stop calling me Captain Ryan. You don’t work for the department anymore. Call me Alex.”

Beth blushed a little. She’d been a clerk in the Colfax PD evidence room when she met Chris and she was always careful to treat Chris’s boss respectfully.

Alex smiled at the three detectives, and added, “And that first-name basis stuff does not apply to you guys during working hours.”

They all laughed and Alex sat in the other chair. “How are you feeling?” she asked Frank. “You achieved the best possible medical report: ‘treated and released.’”

Chris snorted and said, “He achieved the perfect vacation. ‘Oh, gee, sorry, Captain, I can’t work for five days, I have to stay home and drink beer.’”

“Hey,” Frank protested, “I’m not allowed to drink. Painkillers and antibiotics.”

“Ha! Painkillers, my ass,” Chris continued. “Probably hurts about as much as a hangnail.”

Frank pulled an exaggerated look of distress and touched his side with his free hand, moaning, “Oh, that’s so cruel. I’m in agony.”

“Stop,” Beth said to Chris. “You’re being mean. The poor man was shot, after all.”

“Thank you, Beth,” Frank said, with dignity. “At least somebody understands my deep distress.”

“I’ll give you some deep distress,” Chris muttered.

Beth reached over and grasped Chris’s hand. “Behave,” she murmured.

Chris cocked an eyebrow and said, “That’s not what you usually want.”

As Beth blushed, Frank sputtered, “Oh, jeez, knock it off already, or I’ll start calling you Hans in front of suspects.”

Jo asked, “Hans?”

Chris made a face and said, “Hans Christian Andersen. It’s Frank’s lame idea of a joke.”

“It’s not his fault he’s lame,” Jo responded quickly. “Cubby fans don’t have much of a sense of humor, for obvious reasons. Did I mention his team hasn’t won a Series since before World War One?”

“Hey, knock it off!” Frank gave a mock growl.

“Or what, Harlem Avenue? You gonna slug me with that grievous injury hampering you?”

“Nah,” Frank replied easily. “I’ll get my partner to do it for me. She’s tougher than I am anyway. Sic ’em, Hans.”

Chris held up both hands, palms out. “Hey, I’m a Rockies fan. You do your own dirty work.”

“Colorado Rockies,” Frank sniffed. “A bunch of johnny-come-latelies.”

“Don’t you start with me,” Chris warned him. “Even the Rockies have been to the World Series since the Chicago Cubs have.”

“Ow,” Frank said. “Now that really hurt.”

Suddenly Chris shook her head angrily. “Not as much as that asshole Fullerton hurt you. Another cop, for God’s sake. Pisses me off.”

Frank’s tone grew serious. “Yeah. I know. Somebody you depend on…”

Alex interjected, “Somebody you think has your back turns out to be someone you can’t trust. I’m sorry, Frankie. It was me he came up there to get, not you.”

“Don’t you apologize for him, Cap,” Frank said. “You didn’t do anything wrong. It was him. He was never right, not from the start. He was always bitching about something.” He slid his eyes toward Jo, and lightened the mood with, “Kinda like a White Sox fan.”

“Really funny,” Jo said. “And speaking of which, I brought you a present.” Jo pulled a plastic bag from beside her chair. “Something to cheer you up.”

“A National League Pennant for the Cubs?” Frank asked.

“No. Better.”

Jo produced a White Sox baseball cap and tossed it into his lap.

“Hey, put it on!” Chris urged him, laughing.

Frank recoiled in horror. “Oh, my God, get that outta my house!” he exclaimed. “Jeez, are you trying to get me whacked? I show up in my neighborhood with that and I’ll end up like Jimmy Hoffa.”

“I thought he got iced in Detroit,” Jo said with a smirk.

“Yeah, for all you know about it,” Frank deadpanned.

Now they were all laughing together. Alex felt another layer of unhappiness peel away from her in the company of people she knew and respected, people she liked.

Underneath it all was something she’d had precious little of in the last months: hope. Hope that they could find David’s killer, hope that she could bring CJ home again and above all, hope that she would, some day in a future not too far away, be happy again.

Chapter Fifteen

First thing the next morning, Alex called Chris Andersen into her office. “Since Frank won’t be back until next week, I want to talk to you about your caseload,” Alex began.

“Okay. It will be a short conversation, though. I’ve got that liquor store burglary with no leads and no forensics, an assault case that my grandmother could have solved in fifteen minutes, a criminal mischief at the local middle school and the Castillo murder. I don’t need any help on any of them except for the last one. I’m waiting on a warrant on the assault case and I can get uniformed to go out with me when I pick the guy up when it comes in. Everything’s under control.”

Alex was struck again by the similarity between Chris and a young Alex Ryan, both made of hard work and dedication. She briefly switched topics to, “It was good to see Beth last night. I meant to ask her how school was going.”

The expression on Chris’s face softened immediately. “She’s doing great,” she replied proudly. “She’s starting her hospital rotations soon—you know, going through emergency, pediatrics, stuff like that. Her grades are perfect and one of her instructors told her that after she gets her license as a practical nurse, she should consider continuing in school to become a registered nurse. I’m so goddamned proud of her.”

Alex smiled at her. “Good for you. And good for her. She’s a very nice young woman.”

“Yeah. A lot younger than I am,” Chris said ruefully.

Alex laughed and said, “Come on Andersen, you’re not quite over the hill yet. What are you, thirty-one, thirty-two? You’ll do fine together.”

Chris lifted an eyebrow at her. “Are you trying to sell me on the virtues of younger women?”

A couple of weeks ago the remark would have stung. Alex said, “I certainly could, but I think we’ll need to be out of the office and on our second beer first. Now, what’s the status on our murder case?”