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  He moved her with his body and pressed her against the door then leaned into her. She broke their connection long enough to allow a gasp to escape her mouth.

  Frank kissed up and down her neck, sucking, licking. He felt like a vampire searching for the jugular.

  His hands ran up and down her body. Down her sides to the swell of her hips. Around the back to the curve of her ass. Then back up her body to cup her breast. It was yielding but firm under his touch. He felt the press of her nipple through the dress and ran his thumb over it. She moaned again.

  She swung her body from the door and started to move inside the hotel room. Frank followed her, tethered to her by the joining of their mouths.

  He could taste the lobster that she’d eaten and the mixture of it with the taste of her was intoxicating.

  Her fingers worked at the buttons of his shirt. He helped her towards the end and then pulled it off his body. Then it was his pants. Her hands were relentless. She undid his button and unzipped his pants. He staggered as they moved and he pulled them off.

  Then they were at the bed. Frank felt his thighs hit it and he stopped. He pulled the zipper on the back of her dress and she scrunched her shoulders together and it fell to the floor.

  Her breasts filled a red, lace bra and seemed to press against it. Katie wasted no time, her hands moved to her back and she unhooked it.

  Then they were in bed. Rolling around on the sheets. He cradled the back of her head as he kissed her, pulling her closer to him. He nibbled on her bottom lip, then moved down her body.

  He circled her left nipple with his tongue and then began to suck. She moaned again and Frank looked up and saw her head thrown back and her hand on her head. Her eyes were closed, but he could see the flush in her eye lids.

  The right nipple got the same treatment. Her body arched and thrust under him. It was a living roller coaster.

  Kissing down her belly, lower and lower. Her panties, also red, were still on and he rubbed his face on them. He blew hot breath onto her vagina through her panties. More thrusting, more bucking.

  Frank pulled down her panties and she placed a hand on his head. Frank looked up and she was beckoning him with her finger. He kissed back up her body and their lips met.

  Then he was inside her. He could feel the press of her around him. The feeling that was both entering and squeezing. He let his hips do the work. They moaned together.

  When it was over, they lay panting on the bed. They were both on their backs, looking up at the ceiling. Their legs were still intertwined and their hands were clasped together.

  “Didn’t think I’d be able to last that long,” Frank said between panting breaths. “Not as young as I used to be.”

  “I know this sounds like a lie,” Katie said. She was similarly out of breath. “But that was the best I’ve ever had. The best.”

  “I’m glad,” Frank said.

  They laid there for awhile. Frank thought about the patrol’s tomorrow. He had an idea of how he could cover it all, but it was going to necessitate another horrible conversation.

  Guilt began to set in. This was Katie he was laying next to. A girl that he’d first met when she was fifteen.

  She’s not fifteen anymore, he told himself.

  It was a good story, but it didn’t quite wash in his brain.

  Silence was beginning to get to Frank and he tried to think of what he could say to her, but before he had a chance to speak, she said something.

  “Stay with me, Frank.” She crawled towards him and put an arm across his stomach. She laid her head on his chest. Her hair tickled his nose, but he made no effort to move it. Instead, he slung an arm around her back and hugged her close to him.

  “Will you please stay with me?”

  “Of course,” Frank said.

  “I’m just scared.”

  “Of what?”

  “I’m just scared all the time.”

  Frank hugged her closer. “There’s nothing to be scared of now.”

  He felt the heat of her body on him and the rhythm of her respiration and soon he felt the drowsiness pulling him down. He didn’t fight it.

  V.

  The blare of an alarm pulled Frank out of a dream where he was face to face with Ellison. The man had Katie by the throat and was holding a knife to her neck. Ellison was saying something, but Frank couldn’t make it out.

  “What?” Frank screamed in his dream. The wind was so strong. It seemed to blow his words away and carry them from their intended target.

  “Don’t worry about me,” Ellison said. “I just know where you are.”

  Frank opened his mouth to ask him what the hell he was talking about and then he was moving up. Up and out of the dream and hearing the alarm.

  He opened his eyes and saw an unfamiliar ceiling. This wasn’t his bedroom. It took a few seconds for him to remember what had happened the night before. He knew where he was.

  Katie was still lying on top of him and it didn’t seem as if the alarm was going to get her to move.

  Frank jostled her and she groaned.

  “Katie, we need to wake up, it’s…” He glanced at the clock on the nightstand. “It’s eight-thirty.”

  “Up,” Katie said. “I’m up.”

  Frank wriggled from her embrace and her eyes began to open.

  “Where you going?”

  “I have to talk to someone this morning.”

  He began to dress quickly.

  Her eyes fully opened and she sat up in bed. She made no effort to cover her body and Frank couldn’t help but glance at her breasts. He felt desire grip him, but he pushed it to the side. Maybe there would be time for it later.

  “Is it him? Do you have to talk to him?”

  “No,” Frank said. There was no need to ask who she was talking about. “It’s one of my men. Something bad is going to happen today unless we can stop it and I need to talk to one of my guys.”

  Katie smiled, but it was a joyless one. It was the smile of a woman who is ready for the other shoe to drop. “You think we made a mistake.”

  Frank bent down and kissed her deeply. He didn’t want to pull away, but he knew he couldn’t allow himself any distractions, time was a factor.

  “Not at all,” Frank said.

  “Good. So, you’ll be at the funeral?”

  “Yes, that’s what I need to talk to my guy for.”

  “Then hurry please, because I need you there.”

  She batted her eyes at him. Actually batted them and it didn’t seem like a comic gesture, it look genuine.

  “I’ll be there. You know you can count on me.”

  “You’re the only one,” Katie said.

  Nineteen

  I.

  Frank sat in front of the house. The radio was off; he wasn’t in the mood for music right now. The engine idled as he stared at the house.

  There was no movement that he could see.

  Maybe they’re asleep, he thought, but he knew that was not likely to be the case. It was just a stall tactic he was making for himself.

  He glanced at the clock in the car. It was nine o’clock. He was pushing it rather close, but he needed just a bit more time.

  The front door opened and Frank stiffened. A man, one he recognized very well, stepped out and grabbed the paper from the stoop.

  As he rose again, he caught sight of Frank and waved. No smile, but at least there was a wave.

  Frank sighed and killed the engine, then he stepped out of the car.

  “Hello, sir,” Adams said.

  “Lieutenant. How are you?”

  “Been better,” Adams said. He stood there with the paper in his hand while Frank walked up the path towards him.

  “I can’t apologize enough for what happened.”

  “There’s no need to apologize,” Adams said.

  “Honey, what is taking you so long?” A female voice asked.

  Then Brenda came into view, standing at the door.

  Frank had seen her a f
ew times, but it had been awhile. The mental image of her that was firmest in his mind was the picture that Adams kept on his desk. The blonde hair, the blue eyes, the pale complexion.

  Everything was the same except for the hair. She had dyed it black. It gave her face a cloud of mystery. She looked like a goth girl on her day off. The piercings sitting in the jewelry box and the tattoos retired.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I came to apologize,” Frank said.

  “Fuck off,” Brenda said.

  “Honey,” Adams said. His voice was mild, with no reproach or any hint of command.

  “Don’t honey me, this bastard is responsible for you missing Travis’s soccer game and spending the night in that fucking jail.”

  Brenda turned her icy gaze on Frank. “Do you know how worried you made me?”

  “I can’t apologize enough,” Frank said. “I did everything I could to get him out as soon as possible.”

  “He shouldn’t have been arrested in the first place.”

  “It’s my own fault,” Adams said.

  “You can stop with that,” Brenda said.

  “It’s true. I shouldn’t have left my duffel bag where someone could plant something on me.”

  “That’s another thing,” Brenda said. “This psycho was in our house. Where my kids…” Her voice became choked. “Where my kids sleep.”

  Adams put an arm around her and she wept into his shoulder.

  “There’s nothing I can say to make it better,” Frank said.

  Brenda lifted her head from her husband’s shoulder. “You’re damn right about that.”

  Frank hesitated. Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe there was someone else he could ask; maybe the patrol would be okay a man short?

  “I need to ask your husband for a favor,” Frank said. Apparently his mouth had its own agenda.

  “A favor?” Brenda burst. She stood up straight again and her posture was that of a person bracing for a blow. Muscles taut and ready.

  “What favor?” Adams asked. His voice was almost bored.

  Frank wasn’t much of a conversation planner. He knew that there were people like that. People who would literally go over conversations dozens of times in their own heads before they approached someone, but he was never one of those people. He operated much better when he could just to react to things as they happened. That was his strong suit. This conversation, however, wasn’t going the way he wanted it to.

  “Do you think I could come inside for a minute?”

  “No,” Brenda said. There was no hesitation in her voice. No scream either, just a flat out denial.

  “Sure,” Adams said at the same time that his wife spoke.

  They both turned to each other and stared for a minute. Frank stood and watched them. It was like observing an argument between a couple of telepaths. He could almost feel unspoken dialogue pass between them.

  After a minute or so, Brenda threw up her hands and stalked off towards the kitchen. Adams offered a bitter smile.

  “Come on in,” he said.

  Frank had never been in the Adams’s house, but it felt vaguely familiar to him. He glanced at the fireplace in the living room and marked the pictures there. Family shots. Everyone smiling. The boys, Trevor, the oldest, smiled in one and showed off the gap where his front teeth had been.

  The kitchen table hadn’t been cleared off from breakfast yet. A tub of butter and a bottle of Mrs. Buttersworth sat in the middle. Frank saw plates with leavings of sticky brown and melted tan.

  “I’m sorry for interrupting your morning,” Frank said.

  Brenda, who was at the kitchen sink rinsing off dishes, snorted. “You’re sorry all right.”

  “Please sit down,” Adams said.

  Frank took his seat and Adams sat next to him.

  From the other room, Frank could hear the sound of muted shouting. He looked up and saw the boys sitting on the floor in front of the television. They were watching Sponge Bob and his friends. The squid guy was yelling about something while he held a clarinet to his body.

  “Kept the boys home from school?” Frank asked.

  “After everything that happened, I just wanted to have my family around me,” Adams said.

  Frank sighed. Now his favor seemed like an even bigger inconvenience, but he was here now.

  “We’re doing a patrol today. Looking for the killer. The real killer.”

  “Who is it?” Brenda asked. “Rick?”

  Frank responded to her, but he looked at Adams while he did it. “Rick is dead.”

  He heard a plate drop to the floor. Adams stared at him, but said nothing.

  “Oh my god,” Brenda said. Although whether she was referring to the news of Rick’s death or the broken plate, Frank didn’t know. He was still looking at his Lieutenant.

  “A man named Harvey Ellison killed him. He’s the same man that indentified you as the killer. He knew the knife was in your bag, he had planned it the whole time.”

  “How do you know?” Adams asked.

  Frank admired how little emotion he was showing. For the first time, he questioned his previous assessment of his Lieutenant. He might not be a Rhodes Scholar, but he knew how to keep his head.

  “We found evidence at the scene, we also found evidence that he lied to us and not just about you. He told us that he was working in the area and that’s how he spotted the killer, but he’s no longer employed.”

  “So you’re sure,” Adams said.

  “Absolutely. Now we need to catch him. We know he’ll strike in one of several places in the County and we’re pretty sure it will be today.”

  “You need me to take a patrol?”

  “I do,” Frank said. “I need you to take my patrol. I need you to be in charge of the operation. Michaels will be your second in command.”

  “No,” Brenda said. She rushed over to the table and pushed Frank’s shoulder. He allowed himself to be moved by the blow. “If this psycho is killing cops. No! We just got him back.”

  Frank looked at Brenda. Her eyes were open so wide they seemed to be more white than anything else.

  “He’ll be fine. Ellison works with a knife and I’ve given orders to shoot at their discretion.” He turned to Adams. “If it seems like it’s too risky to try and bring him in, fire.”

  “How soon do I need to be on the road?” Adams asked.

  “No,” Brenda said. She sounded like a woman who was watching her baby fall from a building and was powerless to stop it.

  “As soon as possible. I’ve got a map for you in my car and a picture of the guy. After that, you can take as much time off as you want and I’ll make sure it’s all paid.”

  “You can’t do this,” Brenda said. Now she was hammering on her husband’s shoulder.

  Adams stood up and hugged her. She resisted at first and continued to beat at him, then she gave up and hugged him back.

  Frank looked towards the living room. Sponge Bob had been forgotten, the boys were standing there looking at their parents. Their faces were expressionless; they looked like a pair of statues.

  “I took an oath,” Adams said. “I’m going to do my job. After that, I’ll take as much time off as you want me to.”

  Frank stood up. Adams turned to him. “Why don’t you wait outside, sir. I’ve got to talk to my family and get my things together.”

  II.

  The sun was beginning to crest towards the middle of the sky. Frank looked at his watch; it was nearly 9:30. There was a hole in the coverage and he was eager to get it filled, but he was just as eager to get to the church.

  He walked to his car and got his maps and pictures. By the time he starting walking up the path, Adams was exiting the house.

  “I’m sorry to do this to you,” Frank said.

  “Brenda will get over it,” Adams said. Though his face showed doubt. It was something that Frank had been trained to look for.

  “The one on top is your assignment. The other ones are where the re
st of the cars will be. Radio Michaels as soon as you’re in position and inform him that you’re ranking officer on the scene.” Frank smiled. “And tell him that I’ll be there as soon as I can. Oh, and call me if anything happens.”

  “Of course, sir,” Adams said.

  “Thank you.”

  “No need to thank me for doing my job.”

  III.

  The church was called St. Christopher’s. Sheila had been raised as a Baptist. It was one of those odd facts that just stuck in his brain. Some snippet from a conversation they’d had long ago. She converted to Catholicism when she’d married George.

  That was a funeral that Frank hadn’t attended. He had been busy trying to keep a promise to Sheila at the time and he didn’t think his presence would be appreciated. Now, however, his presence was more than just appreciated, it was demanded.

  All he had to do was see the small smile that lit Katie’s face when he pulled into the church to know that.

  She was standing at a side door, near the parking lot, with a cigarette in her hand. She took a drag and puffed out a whiff of smoke, then her eyes happened upon his car and the smile came.

  Frank walked to her. Her right leg was jutted out at an angle and her left hand cradled the right arm where she held her cigarette.

  “I was wondering if maybe you’d changed your mind,” she said.

  She was wearing a tasteful black dress. No cleavage today, high neckline, hem line just below the knee.

  “You don’t have much faith in me, do you?” Frank asked.

  He hugged her and smelled the burning of paper and that deeper smell of tobacco, the smell that would be impossible to get out of his clothes for days afterward, he was sure. It was like spiced leaves being set ablaze.

  “I didn’t know you smoked,” Frank said.

  Katie looked at the cigarette as if she didn’t even realize it was in her hand and she stubbed it out in the circular urn next to the door.

  “I don’t,” Katie said. “I mean, I used to smoke, but I quit.”

  “There’s a name for smokers who quit, but still smoke,” Frank said. “They call them smokers.”

  Katie smiled thinly. “Don’t be mean. I bought a pack today; I thought I was probably going to need it.”

  “No judgment,” Frank said.