High Noon

Chapter 28

Walken, Jerald Dennis. Phoebe had the full name after a five second conversation with Commander Harrison. And with Harrison pushing the buttons, she had Walken's last known address within three minutes.
"He won't be there." She snapped her phone closed. "He's too smart for that. He won't be there, but they'll send a team in to make sure of it. He'll have another place by now. Another place where he's dug in deep. Go here," she told Duncan and rattled off an address.
"What's there?"
"He was tight with Michael Vince, trained with him, Harrison told me. I want to talk with Michael Vince. Well, God!" She blew out a breath when he whipped around a corner. "You know how to drive, don't you?"
"Make a hell of a martini, too."
"You can mix me up a whole batch when we finish this."
"Gin or vodka?"
She laughed, just put her hands over her face and laughed. "Dealer's choice. Duncan, when we get there, get to Michael Vince's, would you wait for me? Would you call my house and tell them that Dave woke up and I talked to him? Would you tell them he's all right?"
"I'll tell them. I'll wait for you."
Tears stung her eyes. "Oh yeah, a whole bunch of things to say to you later."
Vince lived in a trim little house on the near edge of the south suburbs. He opened the door wearing a pair of blue-checked pajama pants and an irritated expression. The expression went neutral when she held up her badge and gave her name.
"What's the problem, Lieutenant?"
"I need to talk to you about Jerald Walken."
"Jerry? I haven't seen him in years. He moved to Montana. What's this about?"
"I'd like to come in a minute."
"Sure, but we just got the baby down-again. I need to keep it quiet. I swear, the kid hears me scratch my ass two rooms away."
"How old's the baby?"
"Six months. He's teething, which means me and my wife aren't getting any sleep. I've been on with you on some crisis situations. That Johnson deal, that was a hell of a thing."
"It was. Do you know how to get in touch with Walken?"
"No. I never heard from him after he left."
"I heard you were friends."
"We were. I thought we were." With a shrug, Vince sprawled onto one of the living room chairs, yawned hugely. "Sorry. Have a seat. Jerry was supposed to be best man at my wedding, but he took off two weeks before. Didn't even tell me he was turning in his papers till it was done. Sent me a fucking e-mail-'scuze me-an e-mail a couple days later, said he was going to find his soul or some such crap. Two weeks before my wedding, he's going off to find his soul. I'da figured he was just drunk if I hadn't heard he'd left the unit."
It was apparent that the guy was dopey with sleep deprivation. Phoebe remembered those days-nights, endless nights with a fussy baby. "Did Jerry drink a lot?"
"He could tie one on. You do the work we do, you need a little release."
"What about the married woman he was involved with?" Vince pokered up. "What's this about?"
"You were on the Johnson situation. It was Walken who fired that shot."
The sleepy eyes sharpened as he came to attention in the chair. "No fucking way."
"You heard, I'm sure, about the incident in Bonaventure. It was Walken who chained Roy to that grave and killed him. Captain McVee was seriously injured today."
"McVee? How? What happened?"
"An explosive was rigged to the front door of his house. Circumstances swung in our favor, and Captain McVee not only survived, he saw and identified Walken. Now if you know how to contact Walken, you need to tell me so we can bring him in before anyone else is hurt."
"I don't. Christ almighty. Jerry?" Vince slumped back in the chair. "Captain McVee said it was Jerry?"
"He did."
"Jesus. Jesus. He'd been on the edge the last few months on the job. Sometimes the edge works for you, b u't... "
"You had some concerns?" Phoebe prompted.
"Yeah, I guess I did. But, you know, I had a lot going on myself, the whole wedding thing. We didn't hang out as much after a tour. But he was a good cop. Jerry had a cool head on the job. Could be hot off it, but on? He was solid."
"There was a woman."
"Yeah." He blew out the word. "He got tangled up with her, and it was like all he could think about. Had this idea they were going to head off together out West-where men were men, and all that. Get themselves a ranch in Montana. I figured that's what they did. He and the woman took off to Montana."
"What was her name?"
"He called her Gwen, or Guinevere. He kept her to himself. I worried..."
"What did you worry about?"
"This doesn't feel right, Lieutenant. I gotta say, it doesn't feel right. He was a cop, a teammate, a friend."
"Captain McVee was in surgery more than three hours."
"Okay." Vince scrubbed a hand over his jaw. "Okay, okay. Listen, it was just when he'd had a couple too many or he wasn't able to see her for a while that he got jumpy. And maybe sometimes he went off on a tangent."
"Such as?"
"He talked about how it'd be easier to just put a bullet in the guyher husband. He didn't mean it, and he'd get right off it again, talking about how they were just going to wait until they had enough money put by for the ranch. Already had a name for it."
"Camelot?"
"Yeah, yeah, 'cause she was Guinevere. He was crazy about her. She was probably stringing him along, and that's what sent him off."
"No, I don't think she was stringing him along. Other friends, family?"
"He got along with everybody in the unit. Thought of them like brothers. He'd even say brothers-in-arms, you know?"
And not a single police officer had been hit when Charlie Johnson's body was riddled with bullets.
"Family outside the job?"
"He had-has, I don't know which-a mother and stepfather, but they weren't close. I think he said they'd moved out to California when he was in his twenties, and he stayed here. He got along," Vince repeated, "but I'd say, except for me, he was kind of a loner. I think he was put out some when I hooked up with Marijay. My wife. Then he got tangled with this woman, and that was it for him."
Phoebe got to her feet. "If he contacts you or if you see him, you need to contact me immediately. You understand that?"
"Lieutenant, if he did what you're saying, he's got to be out of his mind. I've got a wife and a baby. You can believe me when I say, I hear from Jerry, you'll hear from me. I won't take chances with my family."
Phoebe pulled out her phone as she walked out of the house. She saw Duncan leaning against his car, hands in his pockets, looking up at a sky where stars were trying to light through the thinning clouds.
She leaned back against the car with him while she spoke to the team commander, then to the hospital to check on Dave's condition, and finally to Sykes to bring him up to date.
When she was finished, she pocketed her phone and stayed where she was another moment, looking up at those persistent stars. "You're an awfully patient man, Duncan."
"Most things are worth waiting for."
"In an awful way, that's what Walken thinks, too, and he's been waiting a long time for this. The man in there? That was his closest friend. In fact, reading between the lines, I'd say he was Walken's only friend. A loner who got along, hot-tempered off the job, liked to drink, didn't much care for it when his friend got engaged. But he hasn't once gotten in touch with his only friend in going on three years. He has no friends now. That's the way it is for him. That's the way he wants it now. "We have to dig him out, because he's somewhere in this city. This isn't what I do, not what I know how to do best." She pushed her hands through her hair. "So I have to be the patient one, and wait for others to do the real digging."
"I liked to play baseball when I was a kid." Confused, she looked over. "Sorry?"
"I liked to play, and I could wing a ball out of far right and pinpoint it to the cutoff man, even right into second. And I could run like the wind. But I had a bat as green and limp as old celery. So I had to depend on somebody else to hit in the runs. We do what we do, Phoebe."
"I love him more than I did my own father." She rubbed damp and tired eyes. "I hardly remember my daddy. Horsie-back rides and tickling and how he smelled of Dial soap. But I can't hear his voice in my head, and I have to look at his picture now and again to keep his face in there. When I think of fathers, I think of Dave first."
"Come on, baby." He took her hand. "Let's get you home."
"There's nothing more I can do tonight. Just nothing."
"You'll get some sleep, then you'll figure out what to do tomorrow."
"You're going to stay with me." She got in the car, looked up at him. "You said you would."
"Sure, I can do that."
He expected to bunk in Ava's son's room again, so Duncan was surprised when after peeking in on Carly, Phoebe took him by the hand and drew him into her bedroom.
She pressed a finger to her lips as she closed and locked the door behind them. "You're going to have to be very quiet while you make love with me."
"You're the noisy one." He backed her toward the bed. "But if you get too carried away, I'll just gag you."
"Try this instead." She rose on her toes, found his mouth with hers. "God." She let out the word on a sigh. "God, God, I want you all over me. Inside me, around me, on me and under me. I want to be surrounded, Duncan. Surrounded so I can't think of anything else."
He eased her down on the bed, brushed the hair back from her face.
His lips brushed her brow, her cheeks, her jaw. Then they sank into hers. He could feel her relax, inch by inch. A little tremor in the shoulders, then a melting. Her arms lifted so he could slip her shirt off and away. And his hands ran down her sides. Bumped into her gun. "Ah, I think you're armed and dangerous."
"Crap. I forgot." She tapped him back so she could roll, unhook her weapon. She set it, in its holster, on the nightstand.
"You don't just leave it out like that, with Carly around?"
One more little flutter to the heart, she thought, and cupped his face. "No. I have a lockbox, top shelf of my closet. But I think, as the door's locked, it'll be fine there for a little while."
"Okay. Let's see, I think I was just a b o u't... " He pulled her back. "Here," he said before his lips took hers again.
They spoke in whispers as they undressed each other. Then didn't speak at all.
He surrounded her, just as she'd asked, with touch and taste, with heat and motion. In the dark, her hands and lips slid over his skin, and she found what she needed.
Little thrills rising to gnawing aches, aches soothed back to silky pleasures. Time ticked away, and maybe those stars were burning nowbut she didn't need their light. All the terror and tension of the endless day drained.
She lifted to him, and he could hear her sigh and sigh as he filled her. Then it was she who surrounded him, took him in, trapping him in that glorious heat until he was swamped.
He could see her eyes gleaming in the dark, watching him watching her through that exquisite merging of bodies. The thrill of skin to skin, though the rhythm stayed slow and easy, rise and fall. And lips met with a quick and fresh hunger to muffle moans, to swallow gasps. When the rising peaked and the fall was a dive in the dark, he pressed his face into her hair, to draw in its scent like breath.
She should get up, stow her weapon so she could unlock the door. But, God, it felt so good to just lie there naked, body to body with her mind all fuzzy and her heart still thudding.
How had she done without this for so long? The intimacy and pleasure, the contact? How had she done without him? The conversation and support, the humor and understanding. Wasn't it amazing that at this point in her life she would find someone who fit? Just fit-body, mind, heart.
Maybe she was feeling sentimental and shaky, under siege and out of control. But she'd found someone who helped keep the ground steady under her feet. Someone else who could answer the questions or point the way-because, oh Jesus, she hadn't realized how tired she'd been of carrying the whole load alone.
"You make me feel sturdier, Duncan."
"Good. I think."
"It's very good, for me." She ran her hands down his back all the way to his ass and back again. "Very good. Maybe it's just postcoital euphoria, but right now I feel like I can handle what's happening, and what has to happen. It's going to be all right because it has to be."
He said nothing for a moment, then trailed a finger over her shoulder. "I rehired Suicide Joe."
"You... Hmm."
"Phin's going to be pissed, but it's just part-time. A few hours a week. He's not so crazy, and he's getting therapy." Duncan lifted his head, looked down at her. "You save lives, Phoebe-you saved his.
That's what you do. How many people can say that? That saving lives is what they do. Yeah, it's going to be all right."
"I don't know if I want to save his. Walken's. I've never felt that way before, as if-even for a moment-I wouldn't regret someone's death.
All these years, I've never drawn my weapon on anyone. I've never discharged it outside the range. But I know I could, I know I wouldn't hesitate, if I walked out the door and he was there. It doesn't even weigh on me, Duncan, the knowing that."
"Why should it?"
"Because it's not what I do. All those years ago, when Reuben had us, I thought if I could get a knife from the kitchen, or somehow get the gun away, I'd hurt him. Kill him if I could, for what he was doing to us. Keeping us scared and trapped, that blood on Mama's face, and the fear on Carter's. That's the only other time in my life I felt like this. But when it was over, when it was done, I was so relieved he wasn't dead. He'd go to prison, and that was good, that was just fine, but he wasn't dead. No one died in that house. I don't know, when this is over, if I'll feel the same."
"I haven't picked a fight in... well, that little scuffle with Jake's stupid cousin doesn't count, so in fifteen years or so. Haven't cracked my fist into anyone's face or gotten that rush of whipping someone good and proper. But if I had the chance, if I could get my hands on Walken, I'd beat him bloody. And when he was done, his eyes rolling back, I'd beat him some more.
"It's not what I do, Phoebe, but knowing I would doesn't weigh on me, either."
She stared at him because however calm and easy his tone, she knew he meant it. He had that in him. "Well. Well. We're just a couple of violent individuals, aren't we?"
"Somewhere in there. The difference is we don't set out to be. Tell you what, if you get the chance, you draw on him, and you hold the gun on him till I get there. I'll beat hell out of him, and when he's down, you can give him a couple of good kicks."
She snorted out a laugh before she could stop it. "God, that shouldn't be funny, and it sure as hell shouldn't make me feel better. But it is, and it does. And with this current mood, I'm going to put that gun in the lockbox where it belongs."
She wiggled out from under him, picked up the gun from the nightstand. Then blinked against the sudden light when he switched on the bedside lamp.
"Had to see." He tracked his gaze over her, a lazy sweep of dusky blue. "Naked redhead with a gun. I believe that's stirred me up enough I could go another round."
She only shook her head, walked to the closet. "A few hours ago, I wouldn't have believed I could end the day here, like this. Life is a strange ride, as someone commented recently."
"I like the ups and downs of it. Which reminds me of something I was going to ask you. When this is done, how about taking a few days off, taking a little trip with me?"
It was hopeful and human to project, to plan, Phoebe knew as she took down the lockbox. She smiled a little as she imagined Paris or Rome, Tahiti or Belize. "I might be able to swing that. Where'd you have in mind?"
"Disney World." She dropped the gun into the box with a little thud, then simply stood in the closet, staring at nothing.
"You want to go to Disney World?"
"Big dream of mine when I was a kid. I used to sit in bed and think about it. It all seemed so happy there. Color and music and fun, lifesized cartoon characters walking around. Never got there, not when I was a kid. Been a couple times since, just to say I did."
Carefully, she set the box back on the shelf. "And was it happy? All you wanted it to be?"
"Yeah, I guess it was. If you come out of the Country Bear Jamboree with a frown on your face, you're hopeless. I figured Carly'd get a charge out of it, wouldn't she? It's got to be about the best place in the world when you're seven. At least I thought so when I was."
She stepped back out of the closet to study him. He was sitting on the bed, buck naked, his hair all tousled, a dreamy half smile on his face as he thought, not about the City of Lights or Roman holidays, but magic mountains and flying elephants.
"You want to take Carly to Disney World?"
He turned his head, shrugged. "You can come, too. I'll buy you some mouse ears."
There was a threat hanging over them, she thought. It was very real, and it was very close. His connection to her put him every bit as much in the crosshairs as it did her. But he thought of taking her little girl to Disney World.
She walked to the bed, sat beside him. Taking his hand, she looked into his eyes. "Duncan." And love moved through her like a sigh. "Duncan."
His dimple winked. "Phoebe."
"Would you marry me?"
"Would I... what was that?"
His hand jerked, just a little, in hers, and she saw the coordinating shock on his face. She didn't mind either. "You're the best man I've ever known, and that's going some since I have Carter and Dave in my life, and they're such good men. You make me laugh, and you make me think. You're generous and you're smart-which is an important combination since one without the other is almost always annoying. And your innate loyalty is something I respect and admire."
"You forgot the sex."
Now she smiled. "No, I didn't, not for one quick minute. Since I'm being so complimentary, I'll tell you I've never had better, and it does, of course, factor into this proposal. My life is complicated, and it's heavy with responsibilities. You're the only one I trust enough to ask to share that. The only one I love enough. And I love you, Duncan. I love you so much.
"Wait, wait," she said quickly when she saw the change in his eyes.
"I need to finish. I love all the things about you I've just said, and all that was the bunch of things I was going to tell you tonight. The proposal, that wasn't on the map. But then, well, I got lost in Disney World."
"Disney World was the kicker?"
"Oh yes, yes, it was. I know we haven't known each other for very long. Just since-"
"St. Patrick's Day."
"St. Patrick's Day. So you'll probably need to think about it, and God knows things need to settle down, but-"
I "Where's the ring?"
"The ring?"
"What kind of half-assed proposal is this?" he demanded. "You didn't get me a ring?"
Her breath came out in a whoosh. "I've been a little busy."
His sigh was patient, long-suffering, and quite a bit exaggerated. "I don't know as I can take this very seriously without a ring. But I guess I can make an exception, this once." He leaned down, met her smiling lips with his. "I was going to ask you in Disney World."
"You... Really?"
"I figured on getting you dizzy on the teacups, or weak-kneed on Space Mountain, hit you while your defenses were down some. Of course, I'd've had a ring."
She shoved him back on the bed, rolled on top of him. "I like things clear. Is that a yes?"
"You had me when you walked into Suicide Joe's apartment." Her eyes narrowed. "As far as you knew at that point, I could've been married with six children, or a lesbian."
"Then I'd've pined for you the rest of my days. But I'm a lucky man. Been on a streak for a while now, and it's been heading straight toward you. You had me, Phoebe, the minute you walked in, and from that minute I've been sliding into love without even looking for a handhold." He tucked her hair behind her ear. "I don't mind complications, and responsibilities are just part of living if you're doing it right. We'll do it right, you and me. So yes, I accept your ringless proposal."
She laid her lips on his, then rested, cheek to cheek. "I haven't even started on the complications. I have to live in this house. I can't-"
"I like this house. That's not a complication, it's a great old house on Jones Street."
"My mother-"
"Is great. If I couldn't get you, I was going to go for her. She likes me." He trailed a finger down Phoebe's spine. "Women tend to." Phoebe shifted to look down at him. "I'd e x p e c't... I'd need you to be a father to Carly."
"Piss me off if you didn't. Relax, Phoebe." He drew her down until her head rested on his chest. "You don't have to negotiate this. It's a done deal."
"I'm so happy. It seems strange to be so happy when so much is wrong."
"Whatever's wrong, we'll fix. That's something we're both pretty good at."
"It's nearly morning," she murmured with her eyes on the window. "It's nearly time to start again."
"Close your eyes awhile. Close your eyes while you're happy, and get a little sleep."
The next thing she knew, the sun was beaming into her eyes, and her daughter was banging on the door. Thank God she'd left it locked. Phoebe gave Duncan a good, hard shake, got a grunt in response, before she sprang out of bed. "Just a minute, honey."
"Mama, why is the door locked? Mama, are you okay?"
"Fine, fine." In a flurry of motion, Phoebe rushed to the closet and yanked out her robe. "Just fine, Carly. Why don't you go on downstairs? I'll be right down."
"Your door's locked, Mama. I'll go tell Gran."
"No!" Sweet baby Jesus. "No, no, just a minute." Moving like the wind, Phoebe dragged on the robe as she bolted out of the closet. Yawning hugely, Duncan stood beside the rumpled bed lazily pulling on jeans. At a loss, Phoebe put her finger to her lips, then, unlocking her door, cracked it open an inch.
"I was sleeping, honey. I got home very late. I'll be downstairs in a few minutes."
"But your door was locked."
"Yes, I guess it was. I'll be-"
"Duncan's car's outside. But he's not downstairs, and he's not in Steven's room either."
"Oh. Well. Why don't you go see if Ava wants to make waffles for breakfast?"
"Is Duncan in there?" Carly shifted right and left to try to see through the narrow opening. Phoebe shifted left and right to block her. "Did he sleep with you last night?"
The child was a dog with a bone, Phoebe thought. Before she could speak, Duncan said, "Busted," and eased the door open. "Hey, Carly."
"Hi. Mama's door was locked so I couldn't come in."
"We got home very late," Phoebe repeated.
"How come you slept in Mama's room?" Carly asked Duncan. "And aren't you full of questions this morning, before I've even had my coffee."
"You said you have to ask questions," Carly reminded her mother. "Did you have a bad dream, Duncan? I sleep in Mama's bed sometimes when I do."
"Actually." He gave Phoebe a poke in the arm to shift her aside. "Let me ask you a question. How do you feel about your mama and me getting married?"
Carly's eyes narrowed on Duncan's face, then tracked to her mother's and back. "Because you're in love and want to sleep in bed together?"
"That's right."
"You'd be my stepdaddy?"
"I would."
"Can I have a new dress for when you get married?"
"That would be a priority."
She smiled, and Phoebe recognized the slyness. "My friend Dee got a stepdaddy, then she got a new baby brother named William. Can I have one of those, too?"
"Could be a sister, but we can name her William."
With a giggle, Carly shook her head. "Girls aren't William. We could get a puppy first, and name him William, then-"
"You're pushing your luck, kid," Phoebe warned.
"We're having a conversation here," Duncan said to Phoebe, then hunkered down so his face was level with Carly's. "I'll see what I can do about that. If I pull it off, what're you going to give me?"
Carly's face went pink, then she touched her lips, very primly, to Duncan's cheek.
"Little peck like that, for a baby and a dog? You MacNamara women are tough."
She giggled again, and the pink deepened as she hooked her arms around Duncan for a hug, and gave his cheek a noisy, smacking kiss.
Not once, Phoebe thought as she stared down at them, not once had she seen Carly and Roy hold each other. Not once had she ever seen her little girl grinning in her father's arms.
"Now that's more like it. I'm going to grab a shirt, so I don't make the women in the house swoon when I come downstairs." He set Carly back on her feet. "We'll be right along."
"Okay." She dashed off, shooting him a dazzling smile as she ran for the stairs.
"Guess she approves. Now we'll see what Essie has... What?" Panic streaked across his face as he turned and saw the tears sliding down Phoebe's. "What'd I do wrong?"
Her throat was so thick she could only shake her head as she wrapped herself around him, held tight. Tighter. "We got along without you, you know," she managed. "We got right along. But, God, oh
God, things are so much better with you."
"Happy crying." He let out a little breath of relief. "I get that."
"Very happy."
"That's good. So... how about that puppy?"