Dangerous Waters. Sandra Robbins
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Austin yawned and rubbed the back of his neck as he strode down the hall at police headquarters. He’d been up all night, and he was exhausted. But there was no time to rest. He hadn’t thought this job as one of the detectives heading the new Cold Case unit would be as demanding as his former detective job, but so far it had kept him even busier.
He glanced at his watch and frowned. 7:00 a.m. He’d been at the hospital since eleven last night. If Seth and Alex, his partners, were in the office, he’d bring them up to speed on the Nathan Carson lead before he headed back to either the hospital or to the medical examiner’s office, depending on whether Carson lived or died.
As Brad walked past the break room, he smelled coffee. That’s what he needed right now. He stepped inside, poured himself a cup and sipped the hot liquid as he thought back over the events of the past few days.
Three days ago he’d received a telephone call from a man who identified himself as Nathan Carson, longtime accountant for a local crime family headed by Tony Lynch. Brad had been interested immediately because every cop in town wanted to take down the Lynch organization. Now with Tony retired and living in Florida, a new leader had risen from the ranks, but so far his identity had remained a secret.
At first Brad had been skeptical, but when Carson offered to identify the new leader of the family, he became interested. In addition, Carson also claimed to have information about the five-year-old cold case of a murdered undercover policeman for the Drug Task Force found on the banks of the Mississippi River in Memphis. He hinted at knowing what the officer had discovered shortly before he was killed. That statement had been enough to convince Brad this could be the lead he’d been waiting for.
Only the police and the FBI who’d been called in after the murder knew about the officer’s last message to his superiors before his death. He’d discovered that drugs were but one of the Lynch family’s businesses. Another was the transportation and sale of illegal aliens along the Mississippi.
Carson had promised to meet with Brad at his office today. That wasn’t going to happen now because Nathan Carson’s car had exploded in a ball of flames last night when he’d turned the ignition in the parking garage of the office building where he worked. Now he fought for his life in one of the city’s best trauma units.
Brad narrowed his eyes and shook his head. He didn’t believe in coincidences. What were the odds that two cold cases with suspected ties to the Lynch organization could be connected by a car bomb? The bomb squad had the remains of last night’s bomb right now, and he could hardly wait to find out if it bore any resemblance to the one that had killed federal prosecutor Lawrence Webber and his wife nineteen years ago.
That case was another of the files that had been turned over to him when he’d taken this new job, and for personal reasons he’d like to see it solved more than any other. He drained the last drop of his coffee and threw the disposable cup in the trash before he headed down the hall.
As he approached his office, a uniformed officer stepped out and closed the door. “Good morning, Officer Johnson,” Brad said. “What can I do for you this morning?”
The man jerked his thumb toward the closed door. “Late last night patrol picked up a woman they spotted walking from the direction of the boat ramp on Mud Island. They brought her to the station, but she insisted she could only talk to you. I just left her in your office.”
“What she was doing out there alone late at night?”
The officer shook his head. “I have no idea. Wouldn’t tell us a thing except she had information about one of your cold cases.” He glanced down at his watch. “I’m off duty, and I’m ready to go home.”
“I wish I could go home,” Brad said with a sigh. “But it looks like my day is off to a good start. Are Seth and Alex in yet?”
“Didn’t see ’em.”
“Well, thanks for bringing the woman down here. I’ll see what she wants.”
Brad opened the door and stepped into the office. The woman sat slumped over the desk in his cubicle. Her head was buried in her crossed arms on top of the desk, and she didn’t stir as he closed the door. She appeared to be sound asleep.
He cleared his throat, but she didn’t move. He waited a moment before he crossed to where she sat and stopped beside her. “May I help you?” he asked.
A soft snore was the only response he received.
Brad grasped her shoulder and gave a gentle shake. “May I help you?” he repeated in a louder voice.
A scream tore from her mouth, and she jumped to her feet. She recoiled against the desk and stared at him with wild eyes. Then she relaxed and let out a long breath. “Oh, thank goodness, it’s you, Brad.”
He opened his mouth, but no words came out. He winced at the pain in his stomach that felt as if he’d been kicked. It couldn’t be. Laura? What was she doing in his office?
His heart beat so hard he feared it might jump out of his chest. He staggered backward a step and shook his head. “I can’t believe it. What are you doing here?”
Her brow drew into a weary frown, and she rubbed her hands over her eyes. “I know you’re shocked to see me, but after what happened to me last night, I had to see you.”
For a moment all he could do was stare in shock at her, then his gaze drifted over her body. Her red eyes and the way she sagged against the desk suggested she was near exhaustion. Dried mud caked the pants and top of the blue scrubs she wore, and her shoes looked like she’d waded through a swamp.
She closed her eyes and swayed on her feet. He stopped himself before he reached out to steady her, then berated himself for not doing so. Even if there was some history between them, she was a victim according to Officer Johnson, and he was a cop. She deserved the courtesy he’d give any other person in need of help.
Brad grasped her arm and eased her back toward her chair. “You look exhausted. Sit down before you fall down.”
A weak smile pulled at her lips, and she allowed him to guide her back into the chair. “Thank you, Brad. I know this is a shock for you to find me here, but I had to see you.”
After she was settled, he pulled a chair up from the other side of the room and sat down facing her. “I didn’t even know you were in Memphis. One of the officers said you were found walking on Mud Island last night. What happened?”
Her face crumpled, and big tears rolled down her face. “Oh, Brad, it was awful. I’ve never been so scared in my life.”
No matter how much he’d tried through the years to steel himself when a victim started crying, he’d never been able to ignore a woman’s tears. The fact that this was a woman he’d once been engaged to only made it tougher. He swallowed hard and glanced around for the box of tissues he and his partners kept in the office for times like this.
He pulled one out and handed it to her. “Take your time. Just tell me when you feel up to it.”
She wiped her eyes and blew her nose. “Let me start by asking if you saw Grace’s interview on the news last night.”
He frowned and shook his head. “No. Who did she interview?”
“Me.”
“You? What...I mean, I don’t understand.” He shook his head in dismay. “Whoa, Laura. Back up here. How long have you been back in Memphis? It must have been some time if there’s something Grace needs to interview you about.”
She glanced down at her hands and twisted her fingers together. “I’ve been back for over a year now. Grace and I share a house in midtown Memphis. It works for us because she’s close to the television station, and I’m near Cornerstone Clinic where I work.”
He sagged back in his chair, his mouth gaping open. “A year? And you didn’t let me know? What do you do at Cornerstone?”
“I’m a forensic nurse. I counsel patients