Seeking The Truth. Terri Reed
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He shrugged. “It happens. Some people get antsy around authority figures. We’re trained to discern the difference between a nervous Nellie and a real crook.” He peered at her. “How did you end up in New York?”
“Who doesn’t want to live in New York?” She wasn’t about to tell him she had applied and accepted the job at NYC Weekly as a way to escape her family. “My hope is to write something that will be picked up by a major news source and lead to a job with them. And this New York job seems the best possible place for that to happen.”
“Why journalism?”
She shrugged. “When it was time for college, my maternal grandmother suggested journalism.” She affected a prim voice. “‘Turn your rebelliousness to usefulness,’ was her advice. I took it.”
“She sounds like a wise woman.”
Sadness slipped over her. “She was. She passed on while I was in college.”
“I’m sure she would have been proud of you,” he commented.
At the corner, they waited for the light to turn green before crossing.
“Thank you for saying so.” She didn’t add that her father had said the opposite when she’d made the decision to leave Georgia.
The walk signal appeared, and she stepped out onto the street.
The squeal of tires on the hot pavement filled the air. A car careened around the corner, aiming straight at her. Her lungs froze. Her body refused to move. Carter’s hand wrapped around her biceps and yanked her back onto the sidewalk mere seconds before the brown sedan whizzed past, barely missing her.
She put a hand over her beating heart. “Crazy driver.”
Carter regarded her with an intensity that set the fine hairs on her nape to high alert. He used the radio on his shoulder to report the incident and the fact the car’s license plate had been removed.
“Come on.” He ushered her quickly across the street to a three-story brick building with square windows and an American flag waving over the entrance. Carter stopped to open the glass doors of the public entrance.
“Would there be time for a tour?” She didn’t like the way her voice quaked. The fright from nearly being run over still zoomed through her veins. Having her life flash before her eyes twice in one day made her nerves raw.
Carter’s mouth lifted at one corner. “Yes, I’m sure that can be arranged.”
Excited by the prospect of seeing the inner sanctuary of the K-9 Unit, she followed him inside. Carter and Frosty patiently waited while she went through security and then received a visitor’s badge from the front desk officer sitting behind a large U-shaped desk.
Having never been inside a New York Police Department precinct, she found it fascinating. The lobby had a warmth to it she hadn’t expected. Pictures of dogs and their handlers gave the beige walls life. The phones rang incessantly, keeping the receptionist busy.
Joining Carter and Frosty near a set of stairs, she observed, “Much different than the small police station back home.”
Carter led her up a flight of stairs. “Really? Where is back home and why do you know what the inside of the police station looks like?”
“Vidalia, Georgia. As to why...” A flush heated her cheeks. “I was a bit of a rebellious scamp as a child. I was caught picking flowers in Mrs. Finch’s garden. My father thought he’d scare some sense into me by dragging me down to the sheriff’s station and demanding that Sheriff Potter put me in jail. I think he wanted to frighten me straight as it were.”
Pausing, Carter stared at her. “Seriously? The sheriff didn’t...”
“No. He told me to apologize to Mrs. Finch and he never wanted to see me inside the station house again. He never did.”
“Hmm.”
She wasn’t sure she wanted to know what he was hmming about.
They entered a large space dotted with cubicles for the officers and their dogs. At the far end were enclosed offices. Carter led her to his desk, where he locked his weapon in the bottom drawer. Frosty lay down on a large round fluffy bed underneath the desk corner.
“Can you tell me now how Frosty got his name?”
Carter hitched a hip on the edge of his desk. “He’s named after William Frost. He was an officer with the NYPD back in the ’80s. He was murdered in a gang-related shooting.”
A pang of sorrow touched her. “That’s so sad. Do all the dogs get their names from fallen officers?”
“They do, in some variation. I chose Frost rather than William because he was all white like a blast of winter frost.”
“What breed is he?”
“German shepherd.”
“Really? I’ve never seen one like him before.”
“The white version of the breed comes out of Canada.”
“That’s funny. The Great White North.” She wrote that down. “You said Frost, but you call him Frosty.”
“Ellie, my daughter, liked Frosty better. And it stuck.”
“What a pretty name. Ellie. Your daughter sounds charming.”
“She is.” He looked past her, and his features visibly changed, taking on a soft tender look that had her heart thumping against her rib cage.
She turned to see a blond-haired, blue-eyed pixie streaking toward them.
The little girl jumped into her father’s arms. “Daddy!” she squealed.
She gave Carter big, noisy kisses on both cheeks.
Carter’s deep rumble of a laugh hit Rachelle like an acorn from her parents’ oak tree, digging into her psyche and making her want to hear more.
Holding his beautiful little girl on his hip, Carter smiled at Rachelle. “This is Ellie.” The child regarded her with open curiosity. “My pride and joy.”
There was no doubt about that. “Hi, Ellie, it’s nice to meet you.”
“Honey,” Carter addressed his daughter, “this is Ms. Clark. She’s a reporter.”
The way he emphasized the word reporter had Rachelle stiffening her spine. Wariness entered the little girl’s shining eyes. “She’s one of those.”
Rachelle tried not to take offense. Clearly the Jamesons didn’t hold reporters in high regard.
“All right, you two,” a deep masculine voice from behind Rachelle admonished. “No need to scare our guest.”
Rachelle spun around to find herself face-to-face with Chief Noah Jameson. She’d seen his picture in the New York Times, as well as her own paper on numerous occasions over the past several months.
Dark circles were evident beneath his green eyes. She could only imagine the stress of losing one brother and taking over a high-profile position amid controversy.
Rachelle scribbled down her observations, her pink pen flying over the pages of her flowered journal.
“I like your book,” Ellie said. “Can I see it?”
Rachelle clutched the notebook to her chest and gave a nervous laugh. “These are my work notes. I’m doing an article on your father. And Frosty.”
Carter set Ellie’s feet on the floor. “Okay, munchkin, I need a moment with Uncle Noah.”
He glanced at Rachelle. “I need to tell Noah about today. All of it.”
Rachelle swallowed back the sudden jump of residual fear. “We’ll be fine here.”
She