Читать книгу: «Badge Of Honor»
“We need to talk, Officer Roberts.”
“I have to go. It’s a family matter. It has nothing to do with this case, Sergeant.”
Nick wanted to believe her. The problem was the fear he saw in her dark brown eyes. “What does it have to do with, then?”
Sarah looked around uncomfortably. “My sister’s…safety. I can’t talk about it.”
“Not here, you mean? Not to me?”
She looked him in the eye and he knew something was wrong. “Just trust me—you don’t need to know.”
Nick felt the knife in his back again. Except this petite woman was standing right in front of him. “You’re leaving before finishing reports. I’d say I need to know. You may have FBI credentials, but it’s my duty to make sure you know how to survive on the streets. And I can assure you a distracted police officer may be a danger to herself and her partner.”
The silence between them lengthened. Her voice softened. “I wouldn’t do that to you.” She glanced up at him. “Never.”
CAROL STEWARD
To Carol Steward, selling a book is much like riding a roller coaster—every step of the process, every sale brings that exhilarating high. During the less exciting times, she’s busy gathering ideas and refilling her cup. Writing brings a much-needed balance to her life, since she has her characters share lessons she has learned, as well.
When she’s not working at the University of Northern Colorado, you can usually find her spending time with her husband of over thirty years, writing and thanking God she survived raising her own three children, to reap His rewards of playing with her adorable grandchildren.
Throughout all the different seasons of life, God has continued to teach Carol to turn to Him. She has also learned to simplify her life and appreciate her many blessings—His gift of creativity, sharing her love for God with readers and setting an example of what God can do when we say, “Yes, God, take me, shape me, use me.” To find out more about Carol’s slightly crazy life and her books, visit her Web site at www.carolsteward.com.
Badge of Honor
Carol Steward
MILLS & BOON
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For to this you have been called, because Christ also suffered for you, leaving you an example, that you should follow in His steps. He committed no sin; no guile was found on his lips. When he was reviled, he did not revile in return; when he suffered, he did not threaten; but he trusted to him who judged justly.
—I Peter 2:21–23
This book could not have come together without the support of many dear friends and loved ones. First, for understanding that it kills me to miss the chance to spend time with all of you. Know that you’re always near my thoughts, even when I’m writing. You’ll see what I mean. Second, for not only understanding, but helping me through the rough spots, whether it’s cooking dinner—again—or a massage, or helping me throw out a scene and make it better. You’re all the greatest inspiration I could ever ask for.
Again, to my editor, Melissa—I can’t thank you enough.
To my wonderful husband, Dave. Thanks for taking
a chance on me and never letting me give up on my
dreams. Thirty years and counting!
To my daughter, Sarah, and her husband, who are
both a true blessing to me, and whose real-life
determination to forever live up to being the oldest
breathed life into a cookie-cutter character.
God bless you both.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
EPILOGUE
QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION
ONE
Nick Matthews marched into the precinct, a wave of silence rippling in his wake. His life had changed forever. Even here, with the men and women who had been his friends and defended his life, the shadow of doubt tainted his return. He wouldn’t be able to repair the damage to his honor overnight, but he wasn’t about to walk away.
Fighting crime was his life.
Nick noticed a petite woman walk into the building next to him and turned to investigate. Opening the door to the administrative wing of the police station, he held it as she hurried through.
“Thank you,” she said, tossing her full hair over her shoulder.
He nodded, trying to turn off the guilt of admiring a pretty woman. He wasn’t committed to anyone anymore. Ronda had taken care of that with one swift judgment.
With his conscience cleared, Nick turned to introduce himself, stopped when the FBI seal on her navy polo shirt stole his interest.
His adrenaline kicked into high gear, like it did when he was working a case. Why was the FBI here? What was she investigating? Or should he ask who?
Before he could say anything, she turned down the hall toward the shift commander’s office and disappeared without another word.
Nick entered the men’s locker room preoccupied with thoughts of the woman in the FBI shirt. As he made his way through, he heard someone say, “There was another assault last night.”
Nick listened, wondering if they had a serial criminal on their streets. Maybe that was why “Miss FBI” was here.
“Was it the same M.O. as the rape last spring…?” The officer’s voice faded the minute he saw Nick.
“No, didn’t get that far. Three students walked by and scared him off.” The lower voice was easy to identify. Jared Daniels.
Steeling himself against the dreaded silence, Nick wondered how the chief thought returning to patrol duty rather than to his position as detective would build trust again. But Nick didn’t voice his questions. Those were his orders.
“Hey there, Matthews, welcome back,” Officer Jeremy Logan said as he walked past.
Nick nodded. “Thanks, Jeremy. It’s good to be here.” He fielded a greeting or two, and more than a few skeptical glares from other officers. No one wanted to be associated with a troublemaker, let alone a cop suspected of being on the take. Lockers clanged shut as the whispers turned to silence. One by one, a half-dozen men slipped out of the room in quick succession.
He silently repeated Isaiah 43:2, the verse that had gotten him through this ordeal. “When you pass through deep waters, I will be with you: your troubles will not overwhelm you.” Some days, like today, Nick questioned how much tribulation God thought he could handle. His own opinion was obviously very different from God’s.
Opening his locker, Nick took a quick inventory.
He hadn’t been in here for weeks, and hadn’t worn his uniform since he’d moved to the investigative unit three years ago.
Ignoring the silence was impossible.
These officers had been like family. He couldn’t believe any one of them would think he’d have gone along with anyone on the force selling confiscated drugs. Worse yet was the implication that three officers had been involved in the underground drug ring. So if it wasn’t Nick, they were still looking for one more culprit.
Nick noticed Sean Randall hurry in, stopping to open a locker nearby.
“Hey, Matthews, how’re you doing?” he asked, as if he’d forgotten Nick wore a scarlet letter on his badge.
“Doing okay,” he said simply. He wasn’t about to jump in and make the same mistakes again. Figuring out who he could trust was going to take time, no matter how good a detective he’d been. He couldn’t interrogate each of his colleagues.
Time.
Patience.
Prayers.
Vic Taylor and Jed Tate had been convicted and were awaiting sentencing. Even with the promise of a lighter sentence, they wouldn’t give up any other names, which left a whole lot of suspicion running rampant.
Nick didn’t want to believe another officer on the force was involved. That those two had been working drug cases, forming a drug ring, was unbelievable.
He had to get to the bottom of this.
This is not a demotion. It’s not even discipline. Much as he tried to convince himself of that, it wasn’t working.
He pinned his badge and name tag to the shirt, then began putting on the required layers for traffic officers. The Kevlar vest and uniform shirt weren’t nearly as comfortable as his plainclothes uniform, and he was pretty sure they hadn’t been this snug last time he’d patrolled the streets, either.
Nick took the shirt off, checked for his name on the label ironed to the collar, to be sure someone hadn’t switched them. When had he put on weight? He tugged the shirt across his chest to button it. He’d need to order the next size larger—soon. That, or buy a thinner vest. With the gang activity in the area on the rise, he wasn’t about to take that chance. He sucked in and fastened the shirt, praying it held through the shift. I look like a body builder trying to look buff, he thought. Just what I need tonight.
“Put on a little weight since you left the streets, huh, Matthews?” Sean said with a laugh. “Welcome back.”
“Thanks,” he said gruffly. “It’s all muscle. I’ve been working out in my time off.”
“Yeah,” Randall muttered, “Me, too. My wife says it’s sympathy weight. She expects me to lose it as soon as the baby arrives.”
“Your wife is pregnant?”
“That’s right,” Sean bragged. “Our first.”
“Congratulations.” Nick was stunned that Sean continued the conversation. He’d expected total silence. “When’s the big day?”
“Doc says December 8. We’ll see. Noelle’s showing already.” The officer practically blushed as Nick chuckled. Sean finished dressing and closed his locker. “We’ll catch up later.”
“Yeah, take it easy.” Nick made the necessary adjustments to his duty belt, adding his handcuffs, baton and flashlight rings before making his way to the briefing room. He sat in the back row, trying to lie low. Hushed voices dropped to a deafening silence the minute he took his seat.
Nick knew what they were going through. He even knew what they were thinking. He’d never known what to say when an officer came back after being disciplined for breaking policy. Now he knew how it felt to be the one no one wanted to get too close to. He looked around, trying to place names with the new faces. He was pretty sure Captain Thomas had said his trainee was a female officer. There were two women here he didn’t recognize. The FBI agent was nowhere in sight.
When the shift commander entered the room and stopped to say hello, Nick’s hopes of staying invisible were blown to smithereens. He fought the urge not to slump in his chair, as he had in high school when a teacher embarrassed him by calling on him when he’d walked into class after the bell.
“Let’s welcome Nick back to street patrol,” the commander said, obviously trying to break the awkward tension in the room. “Congratulations on the outcome, Sergeant Matthews.” That ominous cloud of silence broke when two officers joined the commander’s clapping, and the rest reluctantly followed.
Once the murmur of voices returned to normal, the commander began the briefing. “We have changes to the Field Training Officer assignments. Sarah Roberts,” he said as a deafening silence took over the room again. Thomas motioned toward the front row, where the petite woman who had walked in with Nick, stood, barely clearing the heads of the men sitting behind her. Her dark hair was neatly braided and she looked like a teenager waiting for a growth spurt to befall her. “Officer Roberts comes to Fossil Creek with ten years of FBI field experience. You’ll spend the next four weeks training with your FTO Sergeant Matthews.”
Nick figured every officer in the room was thinking the same thing he was—that Nick Matthews had a new watchdog.
Despite the annoyance, he nodded as Officer Roberts’s glance met his. It can’t be the same Sarah Roberts who went to Fossil Creek High, could it? As she took her seat, Nick struggled to focus on taking notes for the night’s shift, BOLOs, outstanding warrants and cases to be mindful of—mainly the assault case from the night before. He struggled to keep his mind from drifting to the cute twin sister of his old basketball teammate.
He refused to look again. He forced himself to focus on the briefing as Captain Thomas went into detail on the BOLO.
“Be on the lookout for any suspicious activity near the campus,” the captain explained as Nick struggled to link Sarah’s assignment to the assault case.
“…second assault in the vicinity of the university last night. Suspect is described as five-ten, Caucasian, brown hair and medium build. It occurred between nine and ten last night near the fine arts building off Pine Street and Gateway Place. The university police have asked us to provide assistance with additional patrols of the area. This assault has several similarities to the rape that occurred last April. All units in that area double your patrols on the university perimeter until further notice.”
Nick’s mind wandered again, and he found himself wishing he was the detective on the case. Sitting on the fringes had never been his strength. But there was never a dull moment in a city of almost a hundred twenty thousand—thirty thousand more when the university was in session. Patrolling the streets had its perks, he realized—more action, fewer dead ends than in investigations. And it would be a lot more difficult to find out if someone still had it in for him.
After the briefing, he waited at the door to meet Officer Roberts. The majority of their colleagues used the opposite door, thus avoiding the need to address Nick.
“Nick Matthews,” Sarah said confidently, as she stopped next to him and looked up. Her brown eyes, framed with long, dark lashes and high arched eyebrows, were filled with intrigue and intelligence, he noted as he offered his hand.
She was even shorter than she’d looked earlier and even prettier than she had been in high school. He’d guess she was just over five feet tall, the bulkiness of the Kevlar vest and boxy uniform slacks hiding any semblance of a womanly figure. Her face was a dead giveaway, however. Totally feminine. Her full lips would have been too much on most faces, but fit perfectly with her square jaw. He imagined she wore her hair in a thick braid because of the job. She probably didn’t remember him—he’d been two years younger.
She looked him over once and nodded. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”
“You, too.” He didn’t want to think about what she meant by “finally.”
How long were people going to question his word? His actions? His honor? And how was he supposed to erase that shadow of doubt two crooked officers had placed on his badge, when his superiors assigned a former FBI agent to be his new partner? Heavenly Father, help me put the past behind me and move forward.
TWO
Sarah saw the look of doubt in Nick’s eyes. Whether it was skepticism that anyone so petite could be counted on as backup, or her experience with the FBI that he was upset about, she wasn’t sure. She’d been in Fossil Creek for little over a month, and not one person yet seemed to believe she’d willingly left the Federal Bureau of Investigations to become a street officer. Sarah was growing tired of trying to prove herself.
“I’m sorry to ask to keep you waiting, but I really need to talk to the captain. I wasn’t able to catch him earlier,” she said, looking Nick in the eye. “It should only take a few minutes. Do you mind?”
He shrugged. “Be my guest.”
She walked into their superior’s office and closed the door. “Captain Thomas, do you have a minute?”
“Of course, my door’s always open. I got your message on my way into the courtroom this morning. I can’t tell you how sorry I am about your sister’s attack last night. Is she okay?”
Sarah nodded. “She’s pretty shaken up, but thankfully, the group of students came along and startled the suspect before he did anything more than scare her.”
The captain frowned. “You don’t have to stay and work tonight, if she wants you with her.”
Sarah thanked him, but declined the offer. “She already had plans with a group of friends…. She thinks if she just goes on as usual, she’ll be able to forget it happened. She doesn’t want me hovering over her as a reminder.”
“Well, if she does need you, call me personally. I’ll make sure it’s kept quiet,” he stated.
“I wanted to thank you for not revealing that last night’s victim was my sister.”
“I wouldn’t have, anyway,” Thomas assured her. “But if at any point it becomes necessary to the investigation, you need to be prepared to talk to the detectives.”
“Of course. I don’t want anyone to think the case is getting preferential treatment because of me, but more than that, I want this guy caught and the charges to stick. If there’s anything I can do to help the detectives catch him, just let me know.” Sarah wasn’t certain exactly how she was going to overcome the urge to take charge, but somehow she needed to stay out of it.
Captain Thomas nodded. “Right now, I think it’s best to keep details as quiet as possible. The detectives are still trying to figure out if there is any connection between the rape last spring and your sister’s attack. I’m curious about something, though. Didn’t Detective Wang recognize you at the hospital?”
“He didn’t seem to, sir.”
Thomas looked at her, clearly puzzled. “Well, since he hasn’t, we may as well let it play out naturally. I’m trusting you to stay out of the investigation, Roberts.”
Sarah nodded. Somehow, she’d do it. “Definitely. In the investigator’s defense, I’d like to say I make every effort to not look like a police officer when I’m off duty.” She forced a smile that she didn’t feel.
The captain laughed. “I’m going to have to push their observation skills a bit then. Maybe I could enlist your assistance, after the investigation is over.”
Sarah studied her superior officer, not sure if he was serious or joking. “I have one more concern. It seems that my experience with the Bureau is a source of contention. It’s not my imagination, is it?”
He shook his head. “Given time, the other officers will realize we’re lucky to have you as one of us. I’m afraid the drug ring has set lots of imaginations running wild. No matter what we say, half the department is convinced we’re still looking for another player in it.”
“Time heals all wounds.” She put her hand on the doorknob and paused. “Thank you for giving me a chance, Captain Thomas. Most places I applied threw out my application on the FBI merit alone. It’s nice to be here in a smaller department.”
“Their loss is Fossil Creek’s gain. We need some new blood here. The drug ring made that very apparent. Now get out there and kick some life into Matthews, would you?”
Sarah found Nick Matthews leaning against the doorway to the officers lounge down the stairs, watching the latest news report of her sister’s assault. “Have they mentioned the victim’s name?” she asked him.
“Nah, they won’t,” he said, stepping forward. “Even the press has standards. Victim’s rights are one of them. We ready to hit the streets?”
She nodded, noting he was taller than she remembered from high school. Ten years had changed both of them, she realized. His shirt looked two sizes too small, not that she minded. She just hoped it made it through the night without tearing.
Sarah went to get the police cruiser key from the board, and noticed it was gone. She turned to him. “You driving?”
“Nope, we’ll see where Sergeant Donovan left off with your training.” Matthews tossed the key to her, and she felt the butterflies in her stomach performing aerial stunts as he checked out an assault rifle from the gun vault. She followed, selecting her own.
“Great,” she muttered as she inspected the car, securing their rifles and a ticket can in the trunk, while he scrutinized her every move. Her rotation with the first trainer had been a continuous reminder of the lesson she’d learned the hard way at the FBI—that men didn’t like bossy women, whether it be at home or work. Nothing had been more difficult than discovering competency and self-reliance scared the marrying kind of man away, almost as fast as hearing she was a special agent for the FBI. “Suggestions?”
“Nope.”
She got into the car and radioed dispatch that they were on duty and heading toward their assigned region of town. Thirty minutes later, Nick still hadn’t said anything; he just silently scribbled on his notepad.
Sarah was getting desperate for some chatter, to the extent of being tempted to ask if he remembered her from high school. Anything to take her mind off Beth’s attack and what he was writing down. Her sister refused to talk about it, and Nick didn’t seem anxious to share, either. Don’t get pushy. Just do your job….
Dispatch interrupted her thoughts. “Silent alarm at Citizen’s Bank on the corner of Birch and First Street.”
“Three-eighteen copy,” Sarah said, then put the mike back into the clip and turned toward the bank.
“It’s not our area,” Nick argued. “We serve as backup if needed.”
Just as Nick predicted, the dispatcher sent another officer to respond, then added, “Three-eighteen stand by to back up if needed.”
She could see the corner of Nick’s mouth twitch.
“It’s only a block from our border,” she said, trying to sound compliant. “I just thought we could help….”
“If it were a block farther east, we could respond.
They’ll call if they need backup, so stay in the area, in case. A little different from what you’re used to, huh?”
She didn’t need to get into an argument on her first night with a new training officer. She put the safety on her mouth before her attitude got her into trouble. “The FBI didn’t serve as first responders on many calls, period.”
“You miss it?”
“I was ready for a change. I always liked Fossil Creek, and with my sister in graduate school here, I decided it was a sign when I saw they were hiring.”
“How long did your family live in Colorado?” he asked, sounding more like a detective than a partner.
As if he couldn’t be less interested if he tried.
“Ten years,” she said, expecting him to ask the same question everyone else did—why had she left the FBI for a local police department? Nick didn’t say anything, and the silence was deafening. She had to talk about something job related before she started worrying and talking about Beth. Experience and instinct told her she could trust Nick Matthews, but she wasn’t sure she was ready to open up yet. She tried making conversation, to no avail. “I’m a little surprised to hear Fossil Creek is having such an explosion of gang and drug problems.”
“Yeah, Greeley PD had to start a gang task force. They cracked down and pushed the gangs out. Now they’re our problem. We need to give them a swift kick out of town, too, before they have a chance to get established here. Fortunately, they’re not as organized as the West Coast gangs. Ours are mostly family and territory battles.”
“What about the drugs?”
He didn’t answer immediately, and Sarah realized she’d just put her foot in her mouth.
“Oh, I didn’t mean…That came out wrong. Forget I said anything,” she begged. “Nick, I’m sorry.”
“Our drug task force does a great job. They work with the DEA and other Colorado agencies to get a leg up on the growing problems.”
She felt blood rush to her face. “I didn’t mean anything personal….”
Before she could continue, dispatch interrupted. “Three-eighteen, backup at Citizen’s Bank. Suspect seen in back of the bank on foot, wearing a dark green shirt and baseball cap, Caucasian, dark hair, nylon stocking over his face. Headed toward University Drive.”
“Three-eighteen copy,” Sarah responded, happy to have something put a little distance between her and Nick. She turned on the flashing lights and siren and headed toward University Drive.
“Take the alley, just past the bus stop sign on the right,” Nick instructed. “He’s not going to stay on a main road if he’s running.”
“He could have a car or driver waiting.”
“There’s no parking on University. Take the alley,” Nick ordered.
She made a last-minute turn into the laneway, annoyed to be given a command. Even more annoyed when he proved her wrong. She hurried toward the taillights of an orange car.
The suspect was stuffing a duffel bag into the passenger-side window and looked up, shocked to see them. He dived headfirst after the bag. The driver took off before his accomplice had pulled his legs inside.
Sarah called dispatch. “Suspect dived into a 1970 SS 454 Chevelle, Nebraska plates, William-Lincoln-Boy 783. That’s WLB 783,” she repeated. She followed with her lights flashing as the car sped away. If no one had been hurt at the bank, and no money taken, there was likely no need to risk the citizenry’s safety with a high-speed pursuit. Sarah was hesitant to force a chase through rush hour traffic. “He’s not going to wait for authorization from the shift commander. Do I pursue?”
Nick started to tell her about a shortcut.
“I know my way around Fossil Creek, Sergeant Matthews. I used to live here.” She pressed the accelerator a bit harder, hoping slow and steady could win this race. “Which officer went into the bank?”
Her partner spoke into his cell phone. “What do we have at the bank? Any injuries?” He paused. “Hostages?” He shook his head.
Sarah kept driving, lights and siren blaring, but she wasn’t going to be aggressive with a chase without orders. Not as a rookie. “The suspects aren’t waiting around. Do we pursue?” she demanded. The orange car was speeding away, the sight sending adrenaline pumping through her veins. It rankled her to let a criminal get away.
The Chevelle was forcing motorists off the roads, amazingly, not causing any accidents. Its brake lights flashed like blinkers. From the sound of horns honking, the driver was obviously annoying locals stuck in five o’clock traffic.
Nick pulled the phone from his ear. “The suspects turned right on—” Before he could finish the sentence, Sarah cut over and turned off on a side street.
“We can catch up without fighting this heavy traffic.”
He nodded and went back to his conversation with the shift supervisor.
Before she got any more response from Nick, dispatch came back with a report. The car had been stolen after a bank robbery in Omaha two days earlier.
“Stolen vehicle,” Nick confirmed. “Follow, but take it easy. They’re calling the commander.”
“Three-eighteen in pursuit on Ram Ridge Road, southbound toward Horseshoe,” Sarah told dispatch.
She waited for information from Nick, which didn’t come. “Was someone hurt?” Depending on the answer, everything may have just changed.
“Yeah, are you comfortable with a high speed pursuit if necessary?” he asked. “We can call in someone else to intercept or set up a roadblock.”
“This isn’t my first pursuit, if that’s what has you worried. And I have a perfect driving record.”
“It was just an offer,” he said, his deep voice tinged with sarcasm.
The car had turned back onto a main road, fighting traffic again, with Sarah on its tail. She watched drivers’ reactions with dismay. One apparently didn’t have good vision or hearing, for she didn’t make any attempt to get out of the way. She should have noticed the flashing lights by now. Sarah hit the brakes and honked her horn. Finally, the driver swerved to the right, nearly hitting the cars that were already on the shoulder.
“Three-eighteen, status?” the dispatcher asked.
Nick responded before she could, leaving her free to focus on the pursuit. “We have the suspect in sight. The Chevelle is turning west on Horseshoe Loop.” He leaned over and checked the speedometer. “Party is exceeding speed limits in heavy rush hour traffic.”
“All officers in the vicinity west of Horseshoe and Dillon Road set up roadblock.”
Oncoming traffic pulled to the shoulder, leaving Sarah an opening. She passed the remaining cars between her and the suspect, hitting a hundred miles an hour in seconds. The road turned from a four-lane to two, but traffic thinned considerably. “If I remember correctly, this road hooks left, then makes a quick right as it goes up the mountain toward the reservoir, correct?”
“Good memory.”
“Think the driver knows that?”
“Yes on the road, no on suspects knowing the layout. You’re doing great.” Nick pressed one hand against the dash and spun the car-mounted laptop with the other so he could access the records on the suspects and the previous bank robbery.
“I’m going to…” Sarah started to say. As if their quarry realized they had no way out, they screeched to a halt, spun around and headed back toward the cruiser, black smoke billowing from the exhaust pipes.
“Aw, nuts!” she spat.
She hit the brakes and backed across the road, leaving her the option of going either direction. “Hang on!”
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