The Third Eye Page 3

  “Maybe.” Brenda sighed and then grinned. She could always count on Andi to cut through her nonsense and tell her the truth, whether she wanted to hear it or not.

  “I gotta go. There’s a crowd and my new cashier is falling apart. Call me later.”

  Brenda set down the phone with a fond smile at the image of Andi swooping in to rescue the cashier who was probably doing fine. Self-appointed rescuer of the lesbian, gay, transgender and just plain lost kids in Briarwood’s increasingly fragmented society, Andi had a tendency to hover over her informally adopted charges long after they were ready to take wing.

  Her smile died as she let her thoughts drift away from Andi and back to the convenient death of Mark Donnelly. She smelled resolute complacency in the station’s recirculated air, and she eyed the men and women under her command. Not one face was turned to look at her. Not one officer had cocked an ear in her direction when she’d picked up her ringing cell phone. But somehow they all seemed attuned to her.

  On a normal Monday morning she would have asked about Sergeant Abbott’s new car and congratulated Gonzalvo and Johnson on Friday afternoon’s successful conviction of a rapist they’d worked tirelessly to build a case against.

  Normally she’d have gone through the paperwork accrued over the weekend, checked in with Thompson about his team’s ongoing investigation into gang-recruitment activities, and had a friendly chat with the two training officers who’d recently been assigned rookies to groom. Today she’d done none of it, but no one had questioned this or commented on the omissions. So, she concluded, they already knew or sensed what was going to happen.

  She glanced at the clock and noted that her self-imposed deadline had arrived. She took a deep breath and called in her two most senior lieutenants to explain what was going to happen in the coming weeks.

  Abe Johnson seemed less than enthused about doing the management work, but she assured him he’d be back investigating before long. Sean Miller had a glint in his eye that told her he relished the opportunity to demonstrate leadership, and she wondered how long it would be until the man started bucking for her position.

  “And of course, I’ll be reachable, day or night.”

  Johnson nodded and examined the breakdown of duties. “How long, Captain?”

  “A couple of weeks, I suspect. Not long.” She forced a smile. “Just pretend I’m on vacation like a normal person.”

  Miller’s phony laugh was an awkward braying, and she smiled to hide her distaste.

  “Don’t you worry, Captain, we can steer this ship until you’re back at the helm.”

  “Thanks. Complete change of topic, here, but I’ve been meaning to ask for months: are you related to Dan Miller?”

  “He’s my cousin. Why do you ask?” Miller crossed his legs and plucked at his perfect crease with manicured fingers.

  “No reason, just wondered.”

  “Ah.” Miller smoothed back his wavy blond hair. “We’re all very proud of his success.”

  The canned answer made Brenda blink. She suspected Miller had political ambitions, and it sounded like there was some competition between the cousins. Sean Miller was not her favorite person. She considered him self-absorbed and self-serving, but in her evaluations, she indicated the truth, that he was capable and sufficiently personable to do his job. Funny, she thought, I don’t like his cousin either. She pushed the idle thought away and asked if either of her lieutenants had any questions.

  After a few clarifications, she thought she’d prepared them as well as possible. Leaving the pair to sort through her carefully considered framework of instructions and schedules, she strode away from her unusually well-organized office without a backward glance. If she hesitated, she’d give up on her quixotic mission and go right back to her desk. Knowing this, she didn’t let herself perseverate any longer. It was time to do the thing or not, and she was determined to do it.

  As she passed Maggie, her assistant jumped up as though she’d been waiting. Petite, middle-aged Maggie Gomez, her dark curls bouncing as she tap-tapped in high heels alongside Brenda, was breathless with curiosity and asthmatic tension. She peppered her boss with questions about upcoming meetings, appointments, and paperwork that needed signing.

  An astute and organized administrator, Maggie was the heart of the station, which Brenda made a point of verbalizing both privately and in front of others on a regular basis. This simple acknowledgment had earned her Maggie’s unflagging loyalty, a valuable commodity in the increasingly politicized Briarwood Police Department.

  Since this particular station was housed at the department’s headquarters, it could have felt like an ancillary segment of the administrative division. In the months since her promotion to captain, Brenda had worked hard to make sure it didn’t. Though it policed the more complex crimes in the increasingly restive southern part of Briarwood’s burgeoning downtown, South Central Station had a high solve rate, low turnover, and relatively few interpersonal problems.

  She was proud of her team and felt a tug of reluctance to walk away from it. Looking into Maggie’s clouded brown eyes and knowing she refused to question her boss because she didn’t want to appear mutinous, Brenda pushed away her last internal resistance. She answered the administrative questions she could, handed Maggie a pile of signed paperwork, and then stopped midstride. She raised her voice just a little so she could be overheard.

  “I know things have been a little weird around here, Maggie, and I’m sorry. This morning has been especially strange. Talk to Lieutenants Miller and Johnson. I’ll probably be taking a little time off starting today, and they’ll split my duties while I’m out. I know they can handle it, but they’ll need your help. If something comes up and you really need me, of course, just call.”

  Maggie nodded. “I figured something like that. What do you think, a week? Maybe two?”

  “Hopefully no longer than that.” Brenda gazed into Maggie’s dark eyes. “I appreciate your being so understanding. This is a good team, and I know you’ll take good care of them for me until I’m back.”

  “And you are coming back, right, Captain?”

  “Absolutely, assuming they’ll have me.” Brenda smiled and let her gaze drift around the large room. “I care a lot about this place and everyone in it.”

  The station went mostly quiet then, and she felt dozens of eyes on her as she made her way to the elevator. There’d been a strange tension in the air in the days since Sheraton’s murder, and Brenda had tried to dispel it by focusing on open cases and compelling her officers to do so as well. It had worked about as well as she could have hoped.

  Upstairs, she cooled her heels outside Chief Daniel Walton’s office, knowing he was at lunch until one. She took the chance to figure out how she was going to deliver her message. When Walton came in, Tori was with him, and Brenda fought the lurching sputter of her emotions that always accompanied Tori’s presence.

  “Captain Borelli, what a wonderful surprise!”

  She ignored the lie and mirrored the chief’s wide, warm grin, pretending she didn’t know Walton’s secretary had texted him the minute Brenda walked onto the fifth floor and requested a meeting. She stood and gave both superior officers a firm handshake, noting that Tori wore the sapphires again and that Walton’s hand was tacky.

  “Chief, Commander, nice to see you both. How was Dave’s Bistro?”

  Tori rolled her eyes, but Donny Walton goggled obligingly. He loved to play the magnanimous leader, and today Brenda was willing to go along with the game.

  “Did someone tell you where we were?”

  “No sir,” she responded, smiling widely. “You’re both sucking on those blue mints, and your tie’s picked up a tiny spot of that special sauce Dave mixes up for his favorite customers.”

  “Wow, nicely done, Captain!” He gave Brenda a careful pat on the arm before looking down at his brightly patterned silk tie. Both women waited a good thirty seconds while he stood with his head bent nearly double and fingered the edg
es of the overpriced accessory.

  When he finally found the miniscule brown dot, he crowed in what seemed like genuine delight. He would, she knew, change ties as soon as he was alone again. Beaming at him, Brenda felt Tori stiffen with obvious impatience at the prolonged exchange.

  “You’re not just here to do parlor tricks, I hope, Captain Borelli.” Tori’s tone was hard. Her ice-blue eyes narrowed, and her hair fairly crackled in its low, perfect ponytail.

  “Oh, come on now, Commander, let’s give the captain her due.” Walton’s affable manner was a key component of his success in the department and, if the rumors were true, would soon be of use to him in the political arena as well. “She’s sharp as a tack, our own Sherlock Holmes. Brenda, why don’t you come in and have a seat, hmm? Do you prefer Commander Young join us or not?”

  “As you like, Chief.”

  Walton looked at Tori, who gave a wry chuckle.

  “Oh, I wouldn’t miss this for the world.” Tori led the way into the chief’s office, and Brenda smiled as she followed the familiar hourglass figure.

  Tori had always known how to present as exactly what she was: perfectly professional, highly intelligent, tightly controlled and a veritable fountain of sexual energy. Behind her, Walton’s subtle intake of breath announced he was as appreciative of Tori’s retreating figure as Brenda was.

  There was silence as the three settled into their places: Walton behind his oversized desk, Brenda at one of the low chairs in front of it, and Tori off to the side, leaning against the walnut credenza and tapping her pocket.

  “You, ah, you knew Dave, didn’t you?”

  She nodded, swallowing hard. “He was a friend of the department for a long time. Michael too.”

  “He’s done a fine job picking up the reins at Dave’s.”

  “I agree.” She didn’t want to think about the sudden heart attack that had made Michael a widower at fifty, but she kept her expression neutral.

  “They were somehow connected to that terrible case, years ago, what was it?”

  “Child trafficking. Dave’s was still a fish-and-chips shack back then, if you can believe it. The guys lived across the street from the house we believed was being used to keep the victims. Dave let us use his house for surveillance. Darius Brown and I spent practically every night staring out of his living room for weeks. Michael and Dave had just gotten together, and poor Michael didn’t know what to think at first, but he went along with it. The guys would bring us sandwiches and coffee.”

  “If the rumors are true, you didn’t exactly have authorization for all of that.”

  “You’re right. On paper, there wasn’t enough to go on. But Brown and I were convinced all we needed was a little leeway. In the end, the department was too pleased by the convictions to censure us. And back then we were usually given more leash to follow our instincts. Anyway, that was a long time ago. Dave Morgan heard us out and never hesitated. He was instrumental in our success, but he insisted we never reveal his role in helping us.”

  “I believe he passed away last year, right before I moved here.”

  Tori jumped in. “And Michael took over several years before that. Dave’s heart had gone a little weak. He had a quadruple bypass, a couple of stents. He was mostly retired the last few years.”

  “I wish I’d met him. Michael seems like a nice enough fellow.”

  “I agree.”

  She nodded to offer appreciation of his easy acknowledgment of the men’s marriage. Dave had been the dreamer, Michael the businessman. It was Michael who’d insisted on the renovations and revamping of the menu, but it would always be Dave’s Bistro, and she understood why.

  Tori blinked several times, a sign of impatience and irritation, and Brenda wondered if she had as many tells as her former girlfriend.

  “Well, Commander Young, you seem to have some idea of what this is about, but I’m in the dark.” He gave a self-deprecating laugh and the two women smiled, but Brenda wasn’t fooled. He was savvy enough to make her spell out what she wanted.

  “Chief, I won’t waste your time or Commander Young’s. As you know, the last couple of weeks have been pretty trying for all of us. To be perfectly frank, I’m struggling with it. Sheraton wasn’t one of mine. She was under Vallejo’s command, as you know. But she was part of our family. I thought of her as a protégé and to be honest, I’m pretty shaken up by her murder, especially at the hands of one of our own.”

  “It’s hard to believe this could happen here to one of ours, isn’t it? I understand why you’re upset; I’m upset too. And I’m glad you know you can talk to me. I really do understand.” Walton’s soulful brown eyes widened. “Her death was a tragic loss for all of us.”

  “I know I’m not actually at fault for her death—”

  “Of course not,” he agreed. “The commanders determined that. There shouldn’t even have been a hearing. It was necessary for form’s sake. No one actually felt you had done anything wrong. Captain Borelli, Brenda, I want you to put it out of your mind.”

  “Thank you, sir, I appreciate your support. Logically I get that I’m not at fault. But the thing is, I sort of developed a bit of a maternal feeling toward the kid.” Brenda avoided Tori’s cold stare. “And her death has hit me pretty hard.”

  “Oh, come on!” Tori snorted, shifting against the low cabinet.

  “Chief.” Brenda let her voice break a little. “I’m really shaken up.”

  “Of course you are.” Walton oozed warmth and sympathy through his fake tan and expensively tailored brown suit.

  She lowered her gaze, blinking several times so her eyes would be moist. She reached out an imploring hand, which he grasped between warm fingers that were still slightly sticky from Dave’s secret sauce. She’d noticed this during their handshake but hadn’t thought about what it meant.

  Walton had used the sanitizing wipes instead of washing his hands, and Brenda was surprised. His stock-in-trade was his likability, and sticky fingers reflected poorly on the chief of police. She was relieved when he released her.

  “I’m a good cop, Chief. Never let things get to me before, even some pretty bad stuff.” Brenda felt Tori’s effort to rein in her nonetheless visible irritation. “But I’m having trouble concentrating. I can’t sleep. I just keep hearing myself making that stupid joke and then seeing that horrible video. I keep imagining Sheraton, putting herself in danger because she thought the camera would protect her.”

  “Captain Borelli, no.” Walton squeezed his eyes shut before popping them open. “That hearing couldn’t have helped much.”

  “The commanders were just doing their jobs. I know that. I was drowning in guilt before the hearing. Why didn’t I follow up? Why didn’t I take five minutes to check on Sheraton one more time?”

  He regarded her gravely, his lips pursed. He reminded her suddenly of the fathers in early television shows. Those wise, loving characters had worked to teach viewers both good manners and social responsibility. Even as a youngster, she’d noted they were all male. But at least someone had been trying to impart values back then. Now who was there to provide a moral compass?

  “I should just shake it off,” she continued. “But I can’t seem to. I hate being weak like this, especially as one of only two women above the rank of lieutenant. I hate showing this weakness.”

  “Caring about our officers is hardly a sign of weakness, Captain Borelli!” Walton shook his head. “Tell you what. I have an idea. You’re one of our longtimers who never takes vacation, right? You have, what, eight or nine months’ worth of paid time off on the books, don’t you?”

  She nodded, holding her breath.

  “Why don’t you take leave?”

  She looked at him curiously, as if the thought had never occurred to her.

  “Take a few weeks. Go on a cruise, sleep in, practice yoga, whatever. See Dr. Hill, hmm? He’ll sign you off and away you go. Come back, see how you feel. If you need more time after that, we’ll talk about it.”

&nb
sp; “I don’t know, Chief, it seems kind of—”

  “Nonsense.” Walton was at his most charming. “Captain Borelli, this department values you. I value you. We all know what you’ve given up for this job. One of our own betrayed us, and you’re shaken by that. Who wouldn’t be? You feel a special sense of responsibility for Tami Sheraton’s death and so do I. Take the time, please. Nobody will think any less of you for it. In fact, I’ll think more of you for being honest. It’s setting a good example for junior officers. Isn’t that right, Commander Young? Tori?”

  “If that’s what Captain Borelli needs.” Tori’s words escaped through her gritted teeth, and Brenda assiduously avoided her hard stare.

  “Excellent!” He stood and took both of her hands in his slightly tacky ones, offering her a warm smile. “Captain Borelli. Brenda. I want to commend you for your honesty and for leading the department to a healthy resolution of this ugly chapter. Go see Hill this afternoon, hmm?”

  “Yes, sir.” She smiled with real gratitude. “Thank you, Chief, I really appreciate your understanding and support. In terms of my duties, I’m thinking Lieutenant Miller could handle personnel and paperwork compliance, and Lieutenant Johnson could oversee new and open cases.” She shrugged. “If Commander Young is willing to be a lifeline for them, we should be okay.”

  “Sure, Captain.” Tori beamed at Walton. “Always happy to support one of our own.”

  She pulled out her badge and ran her fingers over the seven points of its star. In the center was the briar rose, the symbol of their city.

  The badge had always meant something to her, of course. Carrying it was an act of faith in their department, in their system, in the law, in the triumph of good over evil, order over chaos. Bono malum superate.

  “Do you want me to turn this in until I’m back?”

  Walton shook his head before the words were out of her mouth. “Of course not. You’re on leave, that’s all. We aren’t quite done with you yet, Captain. You have many more years of service to offer this city, don’t you?”