Burnout (NYPD Blue & Gold) (24 page)

Chapter Twenty-Three

Mike leaned against the front of his desk. “It’s official.” He handed Gray and Dom a copy of the preliminary ballistics report faxed from the NYPD lab. “Rod Manici, former owner of La Femme, was killed by the same caliber round as in the gun we found hidden in the trunk of Methopolis’ rental car. We can’t say with complete certainty until NYPD ballistics fires the gun and compares casings, but most likely it’s the same weapon.” He nodded to where Dom sat in a chair next to Gray. “Good hunch.”

Dom grunted in response, eyeing Mike with barely concealed anger. Mike assumed Cassie had told them everything and now Cassie’s partner hated his guts, not that he could blame the guy.

Mike hadn’t spoken a word to Cassie since he’d left his house earlier that morning. In fact, he was surprised Gray hadn’t kicked his ass yet. He was as large and muscled as Cassie’s brother, but if it came to blows there’d be broken bones on both sides.

“Unfortunately,” he said, catching Gray’s gaze, “we weren’t so lucky with Methopolis’ cell phone. The state computer forensics lab managed to unlock it and get through the password protection, but all emails, voicemails, and text messages have been erased. No saved contacts.”

Gray pursed his lips. “No surprise. These guys are good. Too professional to leave anything on their phones.”

“Is Methopolis connected to the Pyramid?” Mike asked.

Gray raised his brows. “You’ve heard of them?”

Mike nodded. “Yes, but it was only a rumor back when I was with the NYPD. The Pyramid was thought to be a shady group of hired assassins.”

“It’s more than a rumor.” Gray clenched his jaw. “They’re like ghosts. We finally grab one, granted he’s dead, and we’ve still got nothing to go on.”

The smell from something heating in the break room microwave drifted into his office, reminding Mike that he hadn’t eaten anything all day. Ignoring the rumble in his stomach, he turned back to the men seated before him. “My guys and the State Police are patrolling the town twenty-four-seven. Seems unlikely anyone would be stupid enough to try something, but you never know.”

“Desperation breeds panic.” Dom’s tone was curt as he shifted in the chair and propped his ankle on his knee. “Whoever contracted Methopolis to kill Cassie may try again. We’re taking her to a safe house as soon as we finish up here.”

Mike let out an exhausted breath as he pushed from the front of his desk and went around to sit behind it. Cassie wasn’t even gone yet, but the idea of never seeing her again twisted his guts like a pretzel.

Stay focused, Flannery.

“We’ve managed to keep the hit man’s ID under wraps,” Mike said, “but we couldn’t stop the
Gazette
from printing a front-page photo spread of Methopolis being loaded into the meat wagon outside Cassie’s house. People are asking questions, and the press is hounding the station with inquiries.”

As if on cue, the phone outside Mike’s office began ringing.

Frustration, worry, and guilt over Cassie were driving him out of his frigging mind. Twice, he’d nearly charged back to his house and told her he couldn’t live without her, that he needed to see her, talk to her, hold her, and keep her safe. But something stopped him. He still hadn’t come to grips with her deception and how it seemed inextricably linked with his past. The need to separate his past from his present—
and
his future—was tearing him apart.

Outside his office, the phone continued ringing. He leaned across his desk to catch his dispatcher’s eye. “Answer the phone!” Maddy did as he ordered, staring at him with raised brows. He eased back in his chair. Damn, he was turning into a dick.

Gray looked up from the ballistics report he’d been scanning, and if Mike didn’t know his old buddy better, he’d say there was censure in his friend’s eyes. Not that he didn’t deserve that, too. Worry over Cassie’s safety, without him there to personally protect her, had him crazed and itching for a fight.

“Shit.” He pressed his fingers to his aching head. “Where’s Cassie now?”

“Relax, she’s down the hall in another office writing reports.” Gray paused, narrowing his eyes. “She didn’t want to see you.”

Not that Mike had given her a reason to
want
to see him, but hearing the words drove the stake deeper into his heart.

“You know,” Gray added, “Cassie’s hurting as much as you are. In the last twenty-four hours, she’s gone through one load of shit after another. Someone tried to murder her twice, then her colleague nearly died in her place. Even her dog came close to dying, then you go and ditch her.”

“Yeah,” Dom chimed in, contempt evident in his voice. “So how ’bout cutting her a little slack?”

Mike slammed his fist on his desk, making his empty coffee mug bounce. “Stay out of it, Carew.”

“The hell I will.” Cassie’s partner rose from the chair, looking like he wanted to rip Mike a new one. “She’s my partner.”

Gray quickly stood and put a staying hand on Dom’s chest, practically pushing him back into the chair. Cassie’s partner reluctantly sat but continued glaring at him with a look that said he was just as itchy for a fight as Mike was. Cassie was lucky to have such a solid partner, one who wouldn’t hesitate to shed blood for her.

“Someone will come back for Raven,” Gray said after a moment. “That’s one tough mutt. Did you know Raven is a K-9?”

“No.” Mike snorted. “I didn’t.” Hell, even her dog was an undercover cop.

Gray chuckled, but with a serious undertone. “Seems like you know my sister pretty well, but I guarantee you don’t know everything about her.”

“Damn straight,” Dom growled.

Shit. Here it comes.

“Dom,” Gray turned to Cassie’s partner, “how ’bout I meet you and Cassie outside in a few minutes? It’s your turn to cool off the car.”

“No way.” Dom continued glaring at Mike. “This, I want to hear.”

Gray stared at Dom for a full five seconds.

“Fine.” Dom rose and left with such haste a few reports on Mike’s desk fluttered across the surface.

When Dom had disappeared into the hallway, Gray leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “You and I go way back. You can tell me to fuck off when I’m done, but I gotta say my piece on this.” He paused. “Deal?”

Mike tightened his jaw. “Deal.”

“Are you planning on talking to Cassie anytime soon?”

“No.” He had no plans to talk to her ever again. But even as he said it, his gut clenched with misgivings and his resolve to stay away from her began to crumble.

“You’re a good cop, Mike, the best. But you’re also stubborn, shortsighted, and you gotta stop living in the past.” Gray lowered his voice as two state troopers on loan to Hopewell Springs stomped through the hallway outside Mike’s office. “I heard about the IA investigation. It was never public knowledge in the department, but I know that IA cop lied to you, slept with you, and broke every conduct code the department has.”

Fresh rage boiled in Mike’s gut. It was all he could do not to kick Gray out of the station house on his ass. But he was a friend, and one thing Mike recalled about Gray Yates was the man had never been a gossip and never said anything without a damn good reason.

“Did you know she got demoted twice and quit the force?”

“No.” He really hadn’t known that.

“Didn’t think so. You left the department pretty abruptly after you got out of the hospital.” Gray settled back in his chair. “I don’t need to tell you how hard it is on a cop being undercover so long.”

“No, you don’t.” He wasn’t fooled by Gray’s casually deceptive expression. There was purpose behind those silver eyes. He just wished his friend would get to the fucking point.

“The pressure can be intense,” Gray continued. “We’ve all heard hellacious stories about deep covers who had to hide out for so long their entire lives were ruined. I’m sure I don’t need to tell you it wasn’t her fault this guy found her.”

“I know that,” Mike agreed. “Probably her picture in the paper after the robbery dimed her out.”

“Maybe.” Gray’s eyes went flint-hard. “Maybe not.”

Mike immediately picked up on his friend’s anger. “Something else brewing I should know about?”

Gray stroked his chin. “We may have a leak in our own house.”

“No shit.” And no wonder Gray looked so pissed.

“Yeah. Got a hunch who it is.” For a brief moment, Gray’s expression actually softened, and if Mike didn’t know his friend so well, he’d have to say Gray actually looked sad, resigned. “Anyway,” he continued, “Cassie’s pretty torn up over what happened to Leo. And to you.” He tipped his head to the slight bulge made by the fresh bandage beneath Mike’s uniform shirt.

“You’re not telling me anything I don’t already know.” His tone and his words were unintentionally curt, and he felt like shit.

“I know that.” Gray nodded. “Cassie’s good at what she does. She’s one of the best undercover officers the department has, but she’s burned out.”

He stifled a groan. He didn’t need to be reminded Cassie was good at undercover work. He already knew that from personal experience.

Was I just part of the job, too?

Gray leaned forward again. “My sister lied about who and what she is, but she’s still the same person.”

“I don’t know who that person is anymore.” That was true.
Wasn’t it?

“Yes, you do.” Gray nodded. “She’s a woman who doesn’t give her love easily.”

Makes two of us.

“Well.” Gray slapped his hands on his thighs and rose from his chair. “Just thought you’d want to know. Dom and I better get Cassie out of here. She’s not happy about going to a safe house. I may have to handcuff her to keep her there.”

Gray’s comment had him remembering when he’d shoved a spoonful of hot-sauce-spiked chili in her face. He’d almost cuffed and arrested her on the spot. His gut churned at the equally vivid memory of how scared he’d been watching her selflessly trade places with Abby during the robbery. He’d never forget the way she made love to him.

Or how he’d felt when he thought she was dead.

Gray folded the ballistics report Mike had given him and shoved it into his pocket. “No matter what you think of her,” he added over his shoulder before leaving, “Cassie’s a woman of principal and the most honest person I know. She would never deliberately hurt or use anyone.”

Mike watched Gray disappear out the door and listened to his receding footsteps echo in the hall. He dragged both hands down his face, feeling every bit as drained as he knew he looked.

Comparing Cassie to Elaine had been automatic. They’d both worked him undercover, both told him they loved him, and both lied to him. But with time and distance came clarity. There was more to consider, though it hadn’t seemed obvious twenty-four hours ago. Then, he couldn’t see through the fog of deception and betrayal. Today, the fog was burning thin.

Elaine had made herself picture perfect for him, going out of her way to be everything he could want in a woman. Not Cassie, she’d done just the opposite. Cassie had resisted him from the beginning. Once she knew he was a cop, she hated him on sight. Hardly an effective M.O. if you want to work someone undercover or use them.

Everything he’d done had pissed her off. The woman could not have made herself less likeable, less what he would normally find attractive in a woman.

He’d wanted her anyway.

Physically, at first, but later it was more than that. She was hard on the outside, yet soft, compassionate, and understanding on the inside. One minute she could make him laugh more than anyone he’d ever met, and the next, twist his insides around her little finger like a strand of gooey cheese.

Despite both their best efforts, she’d made him fall in love with her. But no matter how hard he tried, the past would always be there.

But my past isn’t Cassie’s, and Gray was right. None of this is her fault.

The circumstances of her deception were totally different from what Elaine had done to him. His damn pride and the pain he’d gone through, the guilt he’d lived with every day over the woman who died because he let Elaine get to him… He’d been afraid history was repeating itself and people were getting hurt again because of his weakness, his mistakes. But Cassie wasn’t to blame. Never had been. Her only mistake was loving him.

She did love him, for real. No deceptions. He realized that now.

I really fucked up.

Mike wanted to yell at someone or hit something. With no willing victim nearby, he grabbed the empty coffee mug on his desk and heaved it against the wall. It shattered with a resonating crack, denting the Sheetrock and sending shards flying in every direction.

“Mike!” Gray charged back into his office, a look of pure terror on his face.

Mike’s heart stopped.

“Dom and I searched every office in the station and the entire parking lot. Cassie’s gone.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

“It can’t be,” Cassie whispered as she pulled the newspaper from where she’d tucked it under her arm.

But it was.

Joshua Mosely’s face with a blue crayon beard stared back at her—the same bearded face that etched itself into her memory that night at La Femme.

U.S. senatorial candidate Joshua Mosely
.

Her jaw dropped. “Oh. My. God.”

Was it possible Joshua Mosely was a customer at La Femme? What the press and Mosely’s political opponents wouldn’t do to get hold of a story like this.

Another memory fell into place.

Mosely had been at La Femme six months prior to the raid, she was sure of it. She’d remembered him even then. Both times he’d stayed only ten or fifteen minutes, too short a time to have paid for any of the girls, but both times he’d definitely been in the back rooms. And he’d made Rod Manici nervous as hell.

Another farfetched possibility clicked.

Was he checking out La Femme? The way the owner of a company might walk in unannounced to make sure his establishment was being run properly.

Dom had said Manici wasn’t the real owner
.

Is Mosely?

Did Mosely hire Methopolis to kill her?

Cassie paused on the sidewalk outside the Nest, staring again at the newspaper, still not sure of her theory. It was too preposterous. An unbelievable conspiracy.

To all outward appearances, Mosely had a lucrative construction business. But what if he supplemented it with undeclared cash proceeds squirreled away in a discreet bank account in the Cayman Islands?

The same account Manici got paid from.

It would explain everything, like why someone would want to kill her even though she had Manici cold on the undercover recordings. It wasn’t because of Manici, and it wasn’t because of the recordings. It was because she’d seen him. She’d
seen
Joshua Mosely. Only her live—as in
not dead
—testimony could tie him to La Femme.

Manici could have, but he was dead. How convenient.

Even if Mosely was only a customer at La Femme, his presence in an establishment that sold drugs and peddled underage girls for sex would ruin his bid for the senate. Might not land him in jail, but it would certainly ruin his phony reputation.

Holy crap!

A man walked briskly toward her, head down. Something about the man’s gait, his sense of purpose as he bore down on her, had Cassie suddenly on edge. He wore a beard, she noted with growing tension. And his hands were in his jacket pockets.

A jacket in this heat?

Cassie let the newspaper fall to the sidewalk and eased her hand toward her purse, readying to grab her gun.

The man picked up his pace. As he began to pass her, Cassie let out a relieved breath. Then he raised his head, and she realized too late that he wasn’t just any bearded man.

He was
the
bearded man.

Joshua Mosely.

Before she could get inside her bag, he grabbed her arm and shoved a gun against her ribs.

“Don’t even try it, Detective.”

Two small girls skipped past them holding ice cream cones, blissfully unaware of the evil that had descended on Hopewell Springs. They giggled and waved to Cassie before stopping to sit on a nearby bench and lick their cones.

“I’ll kill those girls.” Mosely’s tone was as cold as his eyes.

Cassie’s pulse beat wildly in her throat. Slowly, she let her hand fall away from her bag.

“That’s a good, obedient woman,” Mosely hissed, then rammed the gun harder into her side. She winced as the blunt metal butt of the gun jabbed her ribs. “Now, drop the bag.”

As she obeyed, it was impossible not to see the hatred in Mosely’s eyes. His lips curled, baring his teeth like a snarling animal.

An animal that wanted to kill her.

“I see you remember me, Detective Yates, although that was hardly my most photogenic moment,” he said, glancing at the newspaper lying on the ground. He tucked his gun between his chest and her back and propelled her toward a green sedan parked at the curb. “I thought one day you might figure it out.”

He twisted her arm to the point that pain radiated from her elbow, and she gasped. There were several moves she could try, but all it would take was a second for the bastard to make good on his promise and shoot those sweet little girls.

“Does that hurt?” He chuckled, his breath hot against her ear. “Good.”

The sick sonofabitch enjoyed inflicting pain.

“This is nothing compared to what I have planned for you later.” Mosely kept urging her forward to the driver’s side door of the green sedan. “Get in,” he ordered.

Her heart beat harder and faster.

Think, Cass. Think!

If she let him take her, she might very well be one dead cop. But she had no choice. Lives were at stake.

“You drive.” He shoved Cassie inside the car and leaned forward, pointing the gun at her. “Don’t do anything to attract attention.” A sick smile twisted his lips as he tipped his head toward the little girls then slammed the driver’s side door shut.

Cassie gripped the steering wheel tightly, anger nearly consuming her at the danger she’d selfishly inflicted on this quiet, beautiful little town.

Mosely’s public persona was a myth, an alter ego he’d created to achieve his goals and get elected. That man didn’t exist. The true Joshua Mosely was a depraved killer bent on destroying anything that got in his way. Right now, she was his number one obstruction.

A hot blast of air blew into the car as he opened the passenger door and got in. He yanked the door shut, and the gun reappeared in his hand below the level of the dashboard. He pointed it at her chest.

“Start the car and drive out of here. Slowly,” he warned as she turned the key. “If you gun it or do anything to attract attention, I’ll roll down my window and open fire on the town. I’m betting your ingrained sense of dedication to the job—to protect and serve—will keep you in line.”

The look on the man’s face said it all. He really would kill innocent people just to piss her off. Then he’d kill her anyway. Resigned, at least for the moment, she started the car.

Mosely motioned with the butt of the gun. “Head north out of town.”

Cassie did as he said and pulled away from the curb. She glanced in the rearview mirror to see Mike’s Explorer speeding down the road, followed closely by Dom’s black Crown Vic. She took her foot off the gas. There had to be a way to signal them.

“Don’t slow down!” Mosely jammed the gun into her ribs. “See those kids?” He hit the button to lower his window as three boys pedaled their bicycles twenty yards ahead. “Pull anything stupid and I’ll shoot them.”

Obediently, Cassie lowered her foot to the gas pedal, praying this wouldn’t be her last day on earth.

As they drove north, storefronts quickly gave way to a few houses dotting the rural road. Soon they would be so far outside of town help would be too far away.

Mosely angled himself toward her. “You cost me a great deal of time, money, and aggravation, Detective Yates.”

“Forgive me if I don’t apologize.” She cast him a derogatory look. “That’s what they pay me for.”

“
Paid
you for. Past tense. After today, you won’t be pulling in a salary anywhere.”

Mosely leaned forward and cranked the air conditioner.

“My lifelong plans nearly crashed and burned the night cops raided La Femme,” he continued with venom in his voice. “At first I thought I was lucky, then I realized you could identify me. The idea that a bitch like you could destroy everything I’ve devoted my life to is simply unacceptable.”

At the touch of his fingers on her neck, she pulled away. Mosely yanked off the scarf and threw it to the floor.

“Your neck should have been snapped long ago. Contract hit my ass. A waste of money. The only thing that incompetent hit man got me was your location. Imagine my joy at seeing your heroic actions immortalized in print. Sloppy, Detective. Very sloppy. Then my joy was shot to hell when I googled the
Hopewell Springs Gazette
this morning to find the police shot my fucking hit man.” Mosely pounded the passenger window with his fist. “Now I have to risk exposure and do the damn job myself. Me, a U.S. senatorial candidate, for Christ’s sake.”

Hoping to stall for time and give Mosely something else to think about, she began asking questions. What did she have to lose?

“You’re the real owner of La Femme, aren’t you?”

“I’ve owned La Femme for over a decade,” he admitted with obvious pride in his voice. “I turned it from a miserable, worthless dive into a profitable business. These days, no one can ascend to a position of political power without serious cash. Income from my legitimate construction business could only take me so far. I needed the income La Femme and Manici anonymously provided.”

Cassie stole another glance at the landscape now covered by field after field of crops. No houses.

No witnesses.

“So Manici was your employee, a witness who could reveal you as the real owner of La Femme. That’s why you had him murdered.”

Mosely snickered. “In exchange for a regular salary and fringe benefits, Manici agreed to be the owner of La Femme in name only.”

Cassie wrinkled her nose in disgust. By fringe benefits, Mosely meant the underage girls.

“Does my choice of income offend you? Although I do understand. I personally would never touch the filthy whores. They were a means to an end, nothing more.”

What. An. Asshole.

Mosely puffed out his chest. “You and everyone else should be applauding me. I worked my way up from nothing, while my competition has old money to back them in their political aspirations, fancy family names with which to buy positions of power. Without La Femme and its unreported tax-free income, my rich, pampered rivals will win.”

She scowled at him. “But in reality you’re nothing but a fraud. A criminal peddling yourself as a self-made man, exactly what the public is screaming for.”

“Precisely.” He smiled as the rolling fields of crops gave way to sparse stands of tall trees. “I’m surprised you’re so well-versed in political issues.”

“What else do cops talk about over coffee and donuts?”

“You have an admirable sense of humor for a woman about to die.”

Ironic that he would take such pride in telling
her
, the one person who could send his sick plan crashing to the ground. Then again, he could never brag to anyone else or he’d have to kill them.

“I went to La Femme twice a year to make sure Manici wasn’t stealing from me and to check on the product, of course.”

“Of course,” she said with a sarcastic edge.

“You’re nothing more than an insolent slut,” he growled. “All women are. But perhaps you can fill a void. With all the recent campaigning, I’ve neglected my own needs. Maybe I’ll fuck you before I kill you. It would serve you right, considering all the trouble you’ve caused me.”

Another check mark on the guy’s sicko list.
Rapist.

Still harboring the hope that help would somehow catch up with her, Cassie pressed on with her questions.

“So money from La Femme is cleaned first through your account in the Cayman Islands, isn’t it?” she said, worrying as the trees became denser the farther they got from town.

“You may have discovered the existence of my hidden account,” he answered, “but without you around there will be no one to link me to it. The Cayman government won’t provide any information to American police, and even if they did, that account is buried under so many shell companies it would take a magician to figure out where the cash actually winds up.”

Mosely laughed, clearly pleased with himself. “That money has supported my endeavors for over a decade. You see, achieving the position of U.S. senator will only be the beginning of my lifelong dream. I’m so close I can taste it. It’s the flavor of power. The power to effect change, to bend men’s wills. To dictate what will happen to the great state of New Jersey.
When
—not if—I achieve my goal, vast power will be mine for the taking. Who knows where it may lead? Perhaps one day…to the White House.”

She raised her eyebrows, unable to contain her disbelief. Then she genuinely laughed. “You’re off your rocker.”

He smacked her on the jaw so hard her head hit the side window. Pain lanced through her jaw and her skull. The vehicle rocked as she struggled to keep it from veering into a ditch.

“That’ll teach you not to laugh at me, bitch.”

Between flashes of rage and pain, Cassie blew out short breaths to gain her composure. Mosely was out of his freaking mind.

The more time she spent sitting next to this asshole, the more determined she became to find a way out. No way could he be allowed to run loose in the world, let alone in a position of political authority. The man was a murdering, power-hungry psycho.

They’d been driving for nearly twenty minutes, and the landscape had gotten more and more unpopulated.
What is he waiting for?
She checked her rearview mirror constantly, but the only thing following them was empty pavement. Now they were surrounded on both sides by thick forest. Time was not on her side. Mike, Dom, and Gray would know she was missing by now, but they’d have no idea where Mosely was taking her—or even what kind of car she was in.

Cassie drew in a breath filled with sweat and Mosely’s expensive aftershave. She curled her fingers around the steering wheel until her nails bit into her palm. Nearly plowing headfirst into Mike’s Explorer last week gave her an idea, and there was no reason to delay. She
could
do this. It was her only chance at getting out of this alive.

Or committing suicide.

Now or never.

She stomped on the gas pedal and wrenched the steering wheel hard left, aiming for the nearest tree.

“What the fuck?” Mosely’s shout was so close to her ear, she could feel his breath on her face. He grabbed the steering wheel and tried to jerk it to the right. “Brake, damn you!”