Collateral Damage (39 page)

"Then what happened?"

I lift the cup off the table. Water sloshes against the sides. My hand—it won't stay steady. I immediately set it back down, clear my throat. "Um, Blake, Tony, and Brandon arrived. Based on what was coming in through my earpiece, there was some concern that they had seen the squad cars on the way in. My best guess is that they tipped Vince off."

"Was it a coincidence, Officer Whalen, that the boyfriend of the girl you admitted to having feelings for showed up on the day you planned to arrest the man who was selling him marijuana?"

Glass shatters, exploding in my ears.

"I dare you to try."

A spike of pain knifes its way from one side of my chest to the other. "If you're implying that I set this whole thing up, then you're wrong. I hate Blake Hanson, yes. He was a crap boyfriend to Jaden. But I didn't have any other contact with him. The fact that he showed up that day was bad timing. It was something he and Tony and Vince worked out, not me." The room spins, almost disappearing. My voice rises with every shallow breath. "And, if you're taking previous testimony into account in this investigation, then it's obvious that Jaden McEntyre is the
last
person I would've ever wanted in the parking lot that afternoon! My whole world
stopped
the second I saw Vince standing at her car!"

Chief Anderson leans closer and whispers: "Relax, Whalen."

The committee head adjusts her glasses, moving on, unfazed. "When you fired at Vince De Luca..."

When I fired at.... When I
fired
at him?

The chair scrapes the floor as I rise, the noise bouncing off cinderblock walls. "Look. I didn't want to kill the guy. I knew when I became a cop that I would have to make tough decisions. I watched him break the window. I watched him drag Jaden out of the car. I watched him slam her head against the frame. I watched him put a gun to her head and threaten to kill her. I saw a moment, and I took it. We're not always afforded second chances in this line of work. He fired at me. I fired at him. And if I did something wrong by doing what I did, I'm sorry. I was only thinking of
her
." I slam my chair beneath the table.

"Officer. If you can remain seated, we have a few more..."

"No," I interrupt. "I'm done here. If, after all the people you've talked to, you
still
can't see that I did the right thing, then there's nothing I can say that'll convince you otherwise."

 
I escape that conference room, tear through the lobby, out the door, and into sunlight. I inhale as much fresh air as possible, yanking my tie loose, unbuttoning the top button of my dress shirt.

"Whalen?" the familiar voice calls. I turn to face Chief Anderson, and wait for him to catch up. "I'm not a big fan of all this running you're doing lately," he says.

"Come on! It's obvious they're biased. They're trying to trick me into saying something they can use against me!"

He frowns. "No one is trying to trick you, Officer. We just want to get to the bottom of this."

"It was like the Grand fucking Inquisition back there!"

"They're just doing their jobs," he reminds me. "I've read the notes from that day, Chris. I've listened to the tapes. You did what you were trained to do—what any of us would've done. Your testimony aligns with everything the detective and the other members of the operation witnessed that afternoon. It aligns with Tony and Blake's confessions. It aligns with Jaden's statement."

"Then why is everyone trying to make me feel like shit?"

"No one can make you feel anything you don't want to feel, Officer. And, after reviewing the evidence, no one in their right mind would recommend anything but getting you back on the job. You have two more weeks of leave, then I want you back at our precinct ready to work."

He spins on his heel, walks away.

I chew on the inside of my cheek, watching him, curious, desperate to know: "Why was she there?" I call after him.

He stops mid-lot, turns to face me, eyebrows drawing together. "I'm sorry?"

"Jaden. Why was she still at school that day?"

"According to her statement," he says, shoving hands in his pockets, "she was speaking with the guidance counselor. College planning. It was an unscheduled meeting."

A coincidence.

Of course it was.

"Two weeks," he reminds me.

C
HAPTER
T
HIRTY
-F
IVE

"Buon giorno! Welcome-ah to-ah Guidos!"

The manager greets me as I enter the restaurant. "I'm meeting someone," I explain, searching the dining room. I spot him at the other end, sitting in a booth, waiting. I suck in a breath, nod toward the guy.

"Help-ah yourself-ah!"

I cross the room, weaving around tables. The place is half empty. Apparently weeknights in Bedford aren't great for business.

I reach the booth, slide onto the seat across from Daniel McEntyre. The server follows with a paper menu, takes my drink order. When she leaves, I'm left alone with Daniel, who has scrutinized my every move since I walked into this building. I'm the one who clears my throat, who finally speaks: "You called me," I remind him. "You wanted to talk. I'm here. So talk." I lean back in my seat, trying to appear comfortable—confident—even as my knee refuses to stop shaking and perspiration gathers between my shoulder blades.

"I know we haven't officially met," he says, scratching his eyebrow.

"I know who you are. You know who I am." I shrug my leather jacket off, set it on the seat beside me. "You asked me to come for a reason."

"I did. It's about Jaden."

I expected this to be about Jaden—from the moment Daniel McEntyre's name appeared on my cell phone, after trying to contact me through the station, after finally getting ahold of Rusch, after begging him for my number. I prepared myself for this going in. But now, hearing her name—having someone give me permission to think about her, to talk about her, to ask how she's doing.... I swallow the lump tightening at the back of my throat, crease the edges of my menu, folding the corners into triangles.

"Is she okay?" Though I've mustered enough courage to ask the question, my voice breaks, and I know my cover is blown.

"No. I don't think so."

I didn't expect this—this transparent honesty. No. His sister's not okay. Jaden—she's not fine. I also didn't anticipate my body going weightless at the news. "W—what is it?" I stammer. "I mean, I thought the doctors…"

"No. Not like that. She's
okay
," he clarifies. "I don't think she's sleeping all that great, though. And she's had some pretty bad headaches. The doctors say it's from the concussion. They put her on migraine medication, but it knocks her out. She tries to stick with the over the counter stuff, but we can tell it's not enough. She's so fucking stubborn."

I force a laugh. "That's Jaden for you."

The waitress returns with my drink, ready to take our order.

"You like pepperoni?" Daniel asks.

My shoulders lift. "Whatever."

While he orders a medium pepperoni with thick crust, I wonder what kind of pizza Jaden prefers. If she's an extra sauce kind of girl or none at all—if she likes those breadsticks topped with cheese. It's the little things. The little things I never had a chance to discover. The layers I never had a chance to peel—because, even from day one, we never stood a chance.

"The thing is," Daniel continues as soon as the waitress leaves, "she's different now."

Of course she's different. The guy selling marijuana to her boyfriend held her at gunpoint. He smashed her head against a car. You don't forget something like that. You can't just "move on." There's no such thing, even. "One of the perks of blunt force trauma," I reply.

"No, it's not just that." He heaves a sigh. "You have to understand where we were coming from. I wasn't exactly the guy you wanted your daughter to bring home, you know what I'm saying?"

I nod. I understand
exactly
what he's saying.

"When you came to town, you sounded an awful lot like me when I was your age." He stops, thinking. "Wait. How old are you, anyway?"

"Twenty-one," I reply.

"Jesus," he mutters, rubbing his eyes. "Twenty-one. Okay, so I thought the eighteen-year-old you was like the eighteen-year-old me. And, for that, I think I owe you an apology."

I shake my head. "No, you don't. The eighteen-year-old me was
just
like the eighteen-year-old you, only I had a 'Get Out of Jail Free' card in the form of my girlfriend's father, who was an attorney."

"So you know about my past," he confirms. "Did Jaden tell you?"

"No. I wouldn't have even known, except you're linked to Vince De Luca in our databases."

He laughs, but there's no humor in it. "Shit. That one mistake is going to haunt me forever." He massages the back of his neck, frowning. "I knew Vince," he admits. "We played ball together in high school—hung out on weekends."

"So what you're saying is Bedford High athletics has a long history of users."

"You have no fucking idea."

Somehow, this doesn't surprise me. "Yeah, well. At least you walked away from it."

Another sigh. "Look, I know what happened that day was an accident. And I didn't exactly convey this the last time we were together, but my family and I are grateful Jaden's okay, and I know we have you to thank for that."

That knot jams my throat, closing it. I try to force it away. "Just doing my job."

"No, you weren't. You were protecting someone you care about. Vince got off lucky, as far as I'm concerned. Because if you didn't take care of him, I would have, and those possession charges would've been
nothing
. Anyway. We should've said something sooner, but thank you. For everything."

"Not
everything
," I clarify.

"If you're talking about taking my little sister all the way to Hamilton to see some pandas when she should've been in school, then yeah. I'm still pissed to hell about that. Phillip, on the other hand—he thinks you were good for her. And since everything that's happened...I'm starting to think that maybe he's right." He hesitates, running his hand across his mouth. I watch the struggle in his eyes, the pursing of his lips, the emotion—the reality of everything that's happened—catching up to him. "It's just...it's not every day someone comes along willing to take a bullet for your little sister."

I swallow back a laugh, try to lighten the mood. "Nah, I'm sure Hanson would've stepped up."

Daniel rolls his eyes, reaches for his drink. "I hated that kid."

"Jaden thought he was perfect."

"I think Jaden started to see a new kind of perfect when she met you."

He stares directly at me as he says this—his eyes, so serious, reminding me so much of Jaden's it's hard to focus. "Trust me. I'm the last thing she needs," I mutter.

"Sarah and Josh—that's all I need, man. Becky is the only thing Phillip needs. My mom and my dad.... Jaden is still in love with you. Whether she wants to admit it or not, she loves you, and that makes you
exactly
what she needs. If you don't feel the same way about her, fine. We can end this conversation right now—pretend it never happened. But if you love her...."