Kansas City Cop

“Just say the word, and I’m there for you, G.” He turned to climb out. “I’ll leave the car running so you stay warm.”

But the dispatch radio beeped, and he settled back behind the wheel to listen to the details of the all-call. “So much for coffee.”

Derek closed the door as the dispatch repeated. “Attention all units in the Westport area. We have a 10-52 reported. Repeat, domestic dispute report. Approach with caution. Suspect believed to be armed with a knife.”

“That’s the Bismarck place.” Derek frowned as he shifted the cruiser into Drive and pulled out onto the street. “I thought Vicki Bismarck took out a restraining order against her ex.”

“She did.” This wasn’t the first time they’d answered a call at the Bismarcks’ home. The address was just a couple of blocks from their location. Gina picked up the radio while Derek flipped on the siren and raced through the beginnings of rush-hour traffic. “Unit 4-13 responding.”

Her family troubles were forgotten as she pulled up the suspect’s name on the laptop mounted on the dashboard. Domestic-disturbance calls were her least favorite kind of call. The situations were unpredictable, and there were usually innocent parties involved. This one was no different.

“Gordon Bismarck. I don’t think he’s handling the divorce very well.” Gina let out a low whistle. “He’s got so many D&Ds and domestic-violence calls the list goes on to a second page. No outstanding warrants, though, so we can’t just run him in.” She glanced over at Derek as they careened around a corner. “Looks like he’s not afraid to hurt somebody. You ready for this?”

“I know you’ve got my back. And I’ve got yours.”

She hoped he meant it because when they pulled up in front of the Bismarck house, they weren’t alone. And the men belonging to a trio of motorcycles and a beat-up van didn’t look like curiosity seekers who’d gathered to see what all the shouting coming from inside the bungalow was about.

Derek turned off the engine and swore. “How many thugs does it take to terrorize one woman? I hope Vicki’s okay. Should I call for reinforcements?”

“Not yet.” Gina tracked the men as they put out cigarettes and split up to block the end of the driveway and the sidewalk leading to the front door. Middle-aged. A couple with potbellies. One had prison tats on his neck. Another took a leisurely drink from a flask before tucking it inside the sheepskin-lined jacket he wore. Their bikes were in better shape than they were. But any one of them could be armed. And she could guess that the guy with the flask wasn’t the only one who’d been drinking. Judging by what she’d read on the cruiser’s computer screen, these were friends, if not former cell mates, of Gordon Bismarck’s. Gina’s blood boiled in her veins at the lopsided odds. She reached for the door handle. “But keep your radio at the ready.”

Gina pushed open the cruiser door and climbed out. “Gentlemen.” She rested her hand on the butt of her holstered Glock. “I need you to disperse.”

“You need us, querida?” Flask Man’s leer and air kisses weren’t even close to intimidating, and she certainly wasn’t his darling anything.

Derek circled the cruiser, positioning himself closer to the two in the driveway while she faced off against the two on the sidewalk. “In case you don’t understand the big word, you need to get on your bikes and ride away.”

“We gave Gordy a ride home,” Potbelly #1 said, thumbing over his shoulder just as something made of glass shattered inside the house.

A woman’s voice cried out, “Gordon, stop it!”

“I paid for this damn house. And I’ll—”

Gina needed to get inside to help Vicki Bismarck. But she wasn’t going to leave these four aging gangbangers out here where they could surround the house or lie in wait for her and Derek to come back outside. “We’re not interested in you boys today,” she articulated in a sharp, authoritative tone. “But if you make me check the registrations on your bikes or van, or I get close enough to think any of you need a Breathalyzer test, then it will be about you.”

Prison Tat Guy was the first to head toward his bike. “Hey, I can’t have my parole officer gettin’ wind of this.”

Potbelly #2 quickly followed suit. “I’m out of here, man. Gordy doesn’t need us to handle Vic. My old lady’s already ticked that I stayed out all night.”

Potbelly #1 clomped the snow off his boots before climbing inside the van. But he sat with the door open, looking toward the man with the flask. “What do you want me to do, Denny? I told Gordy I’d give him a ride back to his place.”

Flask Man’s watery brown eyes never left Gina’s. “We ain’t doin’ nothing illegal here, querida. We’re just a bunch of pals hangin’ out at a friend’s place.”

“It’s Officer Galvan to you.” She had to bite down on the urge to tell him in two languages exactly what kind of man he was. But she wasn’t about to give this patronizing lowlife the satisfaction of losing her temper. She was a cop. Proud of it. And this guy was about to get a lesson in understanding exactly who was in charge here. “Mr. Bismarck isn’t going to need a ride.” Potbelly #1 slammed his door and started the van’s engine. Gina smiled at Flask Man and pulled out her handcuffs. “Denny, is it? I’ve got plenty of room in the backseat for both you and good ol’ Gordy.” She moved toward him, dangling the cuffs in a taunt to emphasize her words. “How do impeding an officer in the performance of her duty, aiding and abetting a known criminal, public intoxication and operating a vehicle under the influence sound to you?”

“You can’t arrest me for all that.”

“I wouldn’t test that theory if I were you.” Derek stepped out of the way of the van as it backed out of the driveway and sped after the two men on motorcycles. “Not with her.”

Gina was close enough to see Flask Man’s nostrils flaring with rage. “Handcuffs or goodbye?”

“I don’t like a woman telling me what to do,” he muttered, striding toward his bike. “Especially one like you.” Once he was astraddle, he revved the engine, yelling something at Derek that sounded a lot like a warning to keep his woman in check. The roar of the bike’s motor drowned out his last parting threat as he raced down the street, but Gina was pretty sure it had something to do with her parentage and how their next meeting would have a very different ending.

“Make sure they stay gone,” Gina said, hooking her cuffs back onto her belt and running to the front door. She opened the glass storm door and knocked against the inside door. “KCPD!” she announced. The woman screamed, and the man yelled all kinds of vile curses. “Vicki Bismarck, are you all right? This is the police, answering a call to this address. I’m coming inside.”

Twenty minutes later, Gina and Derek had Gordon Bismarck and his former wife, Vicki, separated into two rooms of their tiny, trashed home. Gina had bagged the box cutter Gordon had dropped when she’d pulled her gun and blinked her watery eyes at the stench of alcohol, vomit and sweat coming off Gordon’s body. Either Gordy and his buddies had been beefing up their courage for this confrontation or they’d partied hard and gotten stupid enough to think violating a restraining order was a good idea.

Although the slurred epithets were still flying from the living room where Derek had taken Gordon to put a winter coat on over his undershirt, and Vicki was bawling in the kitchen while Gina tried to assess the woman’s injuries, Gina was already wrapping up this case in her head. Even if Vicki refused to press charges, she could book Gordon on breaking and entering, violating his restraining order and public intoxication—all of which should keep him out of Vicki’s life long enough for her to get the help she needed. If she’d ask for it. Clearly, this wasn’t the Bismarcks’ first rodeo with KCPD. That probably explained why Gordon had brought his friends.

Although she hadn’t noted any stab wounds on Vicki, the woman was cradling her left arm as if it had been yanked or twisted hard enough to do some internal damage. Gina glanced around at the slashed curtains and overturned chairs in the kitchen, her gaze landing on the shattered cell phone in the corner that had been crushed beneath a boot or hurled across the room. Clearly, there’d been a substantial altercation here.

Gina righted one of the chairs and urged the skinny woman to sit. “Will you let me look at that arm?” Gina asked, tearing off a fresh paper towel for the woman to dab at her tears. When Vicki nodded, Gina knelt beside her. Bruise marks that fit the span of a man’s hand were already turning purple around her elbow. But there didn’t seem to be any apparent deformity suggesting a broken bone. Didn’t mean it hadn’t been twisted savagely, spraining muscles and tendons. Gina pushed to her feet and headed toward the refrigerator-freezer. “An ice pack should help with the swelling.”

She heard a crash from the living room and spun around as Derek cursed. “Gina—heads up!”

“Are you turnin’ me in, you bitch? My boys are gonna kill you!”

“Gordy!” Vicki screamed as Gordon charged into the kitchen.

Chapter Two

Gina simply reacted, putting herself between the frightened woman and the red-faced man. There was no time to wonder how the drunk had gotten away from Derek. She ducked beneath the attacker’s fist, kicked out with her leg, tripped the big brute, then caught his arm and twisted it behind his back, following him down to the floor. Before his chin smacked the linoleum, she had her knee in his back, pinning him in place.

“He’s too big for the damn cuffs,” Derek shouted, running in behind the perp. He knelt on the opposite side, catching the loose chain that was only connected to one wrist.

Gordon Bismarck writhed beneath her, trying to wrestle himself free. His curses switched from Vicki to Gina to women in general. Locking her own handcuffs around his free arm, Gina twisted his wrist and arm another notch until he yelped. “Don’t make me mad, Mr. Bismarck. Your buddies outside already put me in a mood.”

The mention of his friends sparked a new protest. “Denny! Al! Jim! I need—”

“Uh-uh.” She pushed his cheek back to the floor. “They went bye-bye. Now you be a good boy while my partner walks you out to the squad car so you can sober up and chill that temper.”

“My boys left?”

“That’s right, Gordy.” Derek wiped a dribble of blood from beneath his nose while Gina locked the ends of both cuffs together, securing him. “You’re on your own.”

“I don’t want him touchin’ me,” Gordy protested. “I don’t want him in my house.”

“Not your choice.” Gina stayed on top of the captive, her muscles straining to subdue him until he gave up the fight. She glanced up at Derek, assessing his injury. Other than the carpet lint clinging to his dark uniform from a tussle of some kind, he wasn’t seriously hurt. Still, she kept her voice calm and firm, trying to reassure Vicki that they could keep her safe. “You got him okay?”

“I got him. Thanks for the save. I didn’t realize the cuff wasn’t completely closed around his fat wrist, and I ended up with an elbow in my face.” Derek pulled the man to his feet, his bruised ego making him a little rough as he shoved Bismarck toward the front door. “Forget the coat. Now we can add assaulting a police officer to your charges. Come on, you lousy son of a...”

The door banged shut as Derek muscled Bismarck outside. Gina inhaled several deep breaths, cooling her own adrenaline rush. She watched from the foyer until she saw her partner open the cruiser and unceremoniously dump the perp into the backseat. Only after Derek had closed the door and turned to lean his hip against the fender did she breathe a sigh of relief. The situation was finally secure.

When he pulled out a cigarette and started to light it, Gina muttered a curse beneath her breath. She immediately thumbed the radio clipped to the shoulder of her uniform. “Derek,” she chided, wanting to warn him it was too soon to let down his guard. “Call the sit-rep in to Dispatch, and tell them we’ll be bringing in the suspect. I’ll finish getting the victim’s statement.”

“Chill, G. Let a man catch his breath.” He lit the cigarette and exhaled a puff before answering. “Roger that.”

Gina shook her head. She supposed that losing control of the perp had not only dinged his ego but also rattled him. Maybe she should have a low-key chat with her partner. Aiming for fifth place wasn’t going to get the job done. If he didn’t light a fire under his butt and start showing all the ways he could excel at being a cop, Captain Cutler might cut him from the SWAT candidate list altogether.

But she had more pressing responsibilities to attend to right now than to play the bossy big sister role with her partner and nudge Derek toward success. After softly closing the front door on the cold and the visual of Gordon Bismarck spewing vitriol in the backseat of the cruiser while Derek smacked the window and warned him to be quiet, Gina pulled out her phone again and returned to the kitchen. She found Vicki making a token effort to clean up some of the mess.

“Is he gone?” the woman asked in a tired voice. Although the tears had stopped, her eyes were an unnaturally bright shade of green from all her crying.

“He’s locked in the back of the police cruiser, and I sent his friends away. He won’t get to you again. Not today. Not while I’m here.”

“Thank you.” Vicki dropped a broken plate into the trash. “And Derek’s okay?”

“‘Derek’?”

“Officer Johnson.” A blush tinted Vicki’s pale cheeks. “I thought maybe Gordy thought...having another man in the house...” She shrugged off the rambling explanation. “I remember you two from the last time you were here. So does Gordy.”

“I’m sure Officer Johnson will be fine. May I?” Gina held up her phone and, at Vicki’s nod, snapped a couple of photos of the woman’s injuries and sent them to her computer at work. “I’ll need them to file my report.”

“What if I refuse to press charges?” Vicki asked. “Gordy’s friends might come back, even if he’s not here. Denny’s his big brother. He looks out for him.”

Reminding herself that she hadn’t lived Vicki Bismarck’s life, and that the other woman probably had had the skills and confidence to cope with a situation like this beaten and terrorized out of her by now, Gina took a towel and filled it with some ice from the freezer. “I still have to take Mr. Bismarck in because he resisted arrest and assaulted an officer. And he’s clearly violated his restraining order.” She pressed the ice pack to Vicki’s elbow and nodded toward the abrasion on her cheek. “You should get those injuries checked out by a doctor. Would you like me to call an ambulance?”

Vicki shook her head. “I can’t afford that.”

“How about I call another officer to take you to the ER? Or I can come back once we get your husband processed.”

“No. No more cops, please.” Vicki sank into a chair and rested her elbow on the table. “It just makes Gordy mad.”

“What set him off this time?” Not that it mattered. Violence like this was never acceptable. But if Gina could get the victim talking, she might get some useful information to help get the repeat offender off the street and out of his wife’s life. “I could smell the alcohol on him.”

“He’s been sleeping at Denny’s house.” Gina pulled out her notepad and jotted the name and information. “Gordy’s been out of work for a while. Got laid off at the fertilizer plant. And I haven’t been working long enough to get paid yet. I asked him if he’d picked up his unemployment check. He said he’d help me with groceries.”

“And that set him off?”

“He doesn’t like to talk about money. But no, as soon as I opened the door, he started yelling at me. Denny had said he saw me talking to another man.” Vicki shrugged, then winced at the movement. “I just started a job at the convenience store a couple blocks from here. Guys come in, you know. I have to talk to them when I ring them up. I guess Denny told Gordy I was flirting.”

Gina bit back her opinion of Gordy’s obsession and maintained a cool facade. “When was the last time you ate?” If the woman needed money for groceries, Gina guessed it had been a while. She unzipped another pocket in her vest and pulled out an energy bar, pushing it into the woman’s hand. “Here.” She pulled out a business card for the local women’s shelter as well, and handed it to Vicky. “You get hungry again, you go here, not to Gordy. They’ll help you get groceries at the food pantry. Mention my name and they’ll even sneak you an extra chocolate bar.”

Finally, that coaxed a smile from the frightened woman. “I haven’t eaten real chocolate in months. Sounds heavenly.”

After getting a few more details about Vicki’s relationship with Gordon and her injuries, Gina wrapped up the interview. “You need to be checked out by a doctor,” she reiterated. “Sooner rather than later. Do you have a friend who can take you to the hospital or your regular doctor?”

“I can call my sister. She keeps nagging me to move in with her and her husband.”

“Good.” Gina handed Vicki her phone. “Why don’t you go ahead and do that while I’m here?”

Vicki hesitated. “Will Gordy be back when I get home?”

“I can keep him locked up for up to forty-eight hours—longer if he doesn’t make bail.” Gina had a feeling Vicki’s husband would be locked up for considerably longer than that but didn’t want to guarantee anything she couldn’t back up. “We can send a car through the neighborhood periodically to watch if his brother and friends come back. See a doctor. Go to your sister’s, and get a good night’s sleep. Call the shelter, and get the help you need.”

“Thank you.” Vicki punched in her sister’s phone number and smiled again. “That was sweet to see you take Gordy down—and you aren’t any bigger than I am. Maybe I should learn some of those moves.”

Gina smiled back and pulled out her own business card. “It’s all about attitude. Here. Call me when you’re feeling up to it. A few other officers and I teach free self-defense training sessions.”

Although Vicki didn’t look entirely convinced that she could learn to stand up for herself, at least she had made arrangements with her sister and brother-in-law to stay with them for a few nights by the time Gina was closing the front door behind her and heading down the front walk toward the street. What passed for sunshine on the wintry day was fading behind the evening clouds that rolled across the sky and promised another dusting of snow. Despite the layers of the sweater, flak vest and long-sleeved uniform she wore, Gina shivered at the prospect of spring feeling so far out of reach.

Ignoring the glare of blurry-eyed contempt aimed at her from the backseat of the cruiser, Gina arched a questioning eyebrow at Derek. “Bismarck didn’t hurt you, did he?”

Derek massaged the bridge of his nose that was already bruising and circled around the car as she approached. “Just my pride. I don’t even know if the guy meant to clock me. But I was on the floor, and he was on his way to the kitchen before my eyes stopped watering.”

“Ouch.”

“Just don’t tell anybody that a drunk got the upper hand on me and you had to save my ass. I don’t imagine that would impress Captain Cutler.”

“We’re a team, Derek. We help each other out.”

“And keep each other’s secrets?”

“Something like that.”

His laughter obscured his face with a cloud of warm breath in the chilly air. “Now I really owe you that cup of coffee.” Her aversion to the cold weather was hardly a secret compared to his possible incompetence in handling the suspect. Maybe her partner wasn’t ready for the demands of the promotion. He pulled open his door. “Come on. Let’s get you warmed up—”

The sharp crack of gunfire exploded in the cold air.

Derek’s green eyes widened with shock for a split second before he crumpled to the pavement. “Derek!”

A second bullet thwacked against the shatterproof glass of the windshield. A third whizzed past her ear and shattered the glass in Vicki Bismarck’s storm door. Gina pulled the Glock at her hip and dove the last few feet toward the relative shelter of the car. A stinging shot of lead or shrapnel burned through her calf, and she stumbled into the snow beside the curb.

Where were the damn shots coming from? Who was shooting? Had Denny Bismarck come back? She hadn’t heard a motorcycle on the street. But then, he hadn’t been alone, either.

“Derek? I need you to talk to me.” There was still no answer. Bullets hit the cruiser and a tree trunk in the front yard. Several more shots scuffed through the snow with such rapidity that she knew the shooter either had an automatic weapon or several weapons that he could drop and keep firing. Gina crouched beside the wheel well, listening for the source of the ambush, praying there were no innocent bystanders in the line of fire. The bullets were coming from across the street. But from a house? An alley? A car?

“Derek?” The amount of blood seeping down her leg into her shoe told her the shooter was using something large caliber, meant to inflict maximum damage. But her wound was just a graze. She could still do her job. Before she sidled around the car to pull her partner to safety, Gina got on her radio and called it in. “This is Officer Galvan. Unit 4-13. Officers need assistance. Shots fired.” She gave the street address and approximation of where she thought the shooter might be before repeating the urgent request, “Officers need assistance.”

Gina stilled her breath and heard Gordon Bismarck cussing up a blue streak inside the cruiser. She’d heard Vicki screaming inside the house. What she didn’t hear was her partner. Guilt and fear punched her in the stomach. She hadn’t done job one and kept him safe. She hadn’t had his back when he needed her most.

“Derek?” she called out one more time before cradling the gun in her hands. When she heard the unexpected pause between gunshots, she crept around the trunk of the car, aiming her weapon toward the vague target of the shooter. “Police! Throw down your weapon!” she warned.

A quick scan revealed empty house, empty alley, empty house...bingo! Driver in a rusty old SUV parked half a block down. Gina straightened. “Throw down your weapon, and get out of the vehicle!”

The man’s face was obscured by the barrel of the rifle pointed at her.

There was no mistaking his intent.

Gina squeezed off a shot and dove for cover, but it was too late.

A bullet struck her in the arm, tearing through her right shoulder, piercing the narrow gap between her arm and her protective vest. She hit the ground, and her gun skittered from her grip. Unlike the graze along the back of her leg, she knew this wound was a bad one. The path of the bullet burned through her shoulder.

She clawed her fingers into the hardened layers of snow and crawled back into the yard, away from the shooter. It was hard to catch her breath, hard to orient herself in a sea of clouds and snow. She rolled onto her back, praying she wasn’t imagining the sound of sirens in the distance, hating that she was certain of the grinding noise of the SUV’s engine turning over.

She saw Vicki Bismarck hovering at her broken front door. When Gina turned her head the other direction, she looked beneath the car and saw Derek on the ground, unmoving. Was he even alive? “Derek?”

Did someone have a grudge against him? Against her? Against cops? She hadn’t made any friends among Denny Bismarck and his crew. Was this payback for arresting his brother? For being bested by a woman?

Her shoulder ached, and her right arm was numb. Her chest felt like a boulder sat on it. Still, she managed to reach her radio with her other hand and tug it off her vest. The shooter’s car was speeding away. She couldn’t see much from her vantage point, couldn’t read the license plate or confirm a make of vehicle. The leg wound stung like a hot poker through her calf, but the wound to her shoulder—the injury she could no longer feel—worried her even more. Finding that one spot beneath her armor was either one hell of a lucky shot or the work of a sharpshooter. Gina’s vision blurred as a chill pervaded her body.