Captain Franks waved her to a hard wooden chair at the head of the polished table and introduced her to the others. “Thanks for joining us,” he finished.
As if she had a choice.
“As you know,” Lieutenant Agnew said in a crisp, formal tone, “it’s our responsibility to look into all officer-involved shootings and make certain they were handled appropriately.”
Skye nodded and wondered if any of these people had participated in the hearings related to the previous shootings Trevor Owens had been involved in. But what did she care? She had no reason to assume the man was too quick on the trigger. This time he apparently hadn’t even gotten off a single shot before he was hit.
Her mind focused briefly on her first glimpse of him on the floor. Bleeding. Dying…All but dead.
She must have made a face, since John Correy said, “We know it was an unpleasant situation, and that you were not in the thick of it, so this meeting is only a formality. We’d like you to tell us where you were stationed when the shots were fired and what you did next.”
“Of course.” Skye went through the explanation, mostly for Correy’s benefit, of her role as a K-9 cop whose partner was trained primarily to search for suspects at a crime scene. “My dog, Bella, and I were waiting outside in case we were needed. That’s when I heard the shots and went in, hoping to help apprehend the suspect should he have gotten away.”
“Which he did,” Lieutenant Agnew said dryly. “Did you and your dog search for him?”
“Yes. Bella got the scent from a shirt one of the officers took from the suspect’s car and tracked him to where another vehicle may have been parked. I concluded he drove away, perhaps in a stolen vehicle.”
“And that was your only involvement,” Captain Franks prompted, not making it a question.
“Yes, sir.” The lie came easily. Skye had been doing everything necessary to protect her secret. If she told the truth, no one would believe her anyway. She would lose her job. Maybe even land in some kind of touchy-feely, and utterly unnecessary, psychological counseling.
“But why did you come inside in the first place, Officer Rydell?” John Correy asked coldly. “Were you given orders to enter?”
“Not expressly, sir.” She felt on edge. How should she handle this? “I heard someone yell ‘Officer down’ and ran in to see if I could help. But the EMTs arrived soon, so that was that.”
“You were on the floor beside both our injured officers,” Lieutenant Agnew said.
No surprise that her presence had been noticed. She’d already thought through what to say, just as she had other times she’d used her abilities. Only, this situation was different from the rest. The people she helped were fellow cops. She would keep it short and simple. “Yes, ma’am,” she said softly. “I…I just felt so awful I acted on instinct. I wanted so badly to help, but of course I couldn’t.”
“Of course,” Captain Franks said. “I think that’s all, Officer Rydell. Thank you.”
Thank you, Captain. She didn’t wait to see if the others would contradict him. She rose, nodded respectfully and hurried from the room.
Skye stood outside the door after shutting it behind her. She closed her eyes briefly, leaned against the wall to catch her breath, then opened them again.
She thought it had gone okay, but how could she really know?
Perhaps she had overstepped what appeared to be her boundaries as a K-9 cop. She had apparently acted unprofessionally by letting her feelings rule and approaching the downed officers. But surely the worst that would happen was a reprimand, rather than termination from the job…right?
At least she had not given away her real reason for getting so close….
Okay, time to get out of here. She squared her shoulders and headed toward the elevator. Her legs felt too wobbly to chance the stairs.
Her mind focused again on her real reason for getting so close, at least to the second downed officer. How was Trevor Owens doing now? She pushed the elevator button and waited only a few seconds before the light went on to signal a car had arrived.
The door opened…and Skye found herself looking right into the alert—and quizzical—eyes of Officer Trevor Owens.
Trevor blinked, then allowed the corners of his mouth to turn up into a slow smile. “Hello, Skye.” Damn, it was good to see her again, especially now that his body was closer to being healed and well enough to react to her sexiness.
He got off the elevator and expected her to enter the car, but she didn’t. Instead, she stood there as the door closed behind him. “What are you doing here?” she asked. Her uniform was crisp and professional, but though her blond hair was pulled away from her face, she managed to appear attractively disheveled.
Maybe it was the exhaustion and wariness in her brilliant blue eyes, or the way a few strands of her hair had managed to escape and frame her pink cheeks.
“Unless there’s something you know that I don’t, I still work for the department.” He widened his grin.
Her flush deepened. “I meant…Well, I’m glad you’re feeling well enough to be here, but—you’re not on active duty, are you?”
His smile disappeared. “Not yet.”
“Are you—”
“I’m healing amazingly well. That’s what they told me at the hospital before releasing me this morning.”
“I’m glad.” Skye’s gaze met his for a long moment before she looked away. The intensity of their gaze reminded him of when he’d been down. And something about that still bothered him.
“Officer Owens,” boomed Captain Franks’s voice as the conference room door opened. “Come in. How are you feeling?” The captain glanced sideways at Skye, as if questioning her presence, and she reached beyond Trevor to push the elevator button several times, trying to act as if she’d just been standing there waiting impatiently for it to arrive.
“I’ve felt better, sir,” Trevor told the commanding officer, knowing the question would be repeated over and over till he was completely healed. “But I’m doing okay.”
The elevator dinged, and Trevor glanced toward Skye as she hustled into it. “See you around, Officer Rydell,” he called.
She mumbled something, but he couldn’t quite hear it.
Inside the conference room, Trevor hesitated briefly. Only two more FID people sat there—people who knew the score. In hearings related to other officer-involved shootings, he’d sometimes had to face as many as half a dozen examiners—but fortunately they’d always included Franks, Agnew and Correy.
This time would be a piece of cake. He had been shot. Hadn’t shot back. This time, the inquiry was merely a formality.
“Good to see you looking so well, Officer Owens.” Theresa stood and smiled at him.
“I heard your injuries were life threatening,” Correy said as he approached and held out his hand.
“That’s what I was told,” Trevor agreed. “But I’ll be fine.”
They motioned him to sit at the head of the table, then asked questions about what had gone down in that warehouse, how the team had entered and whether everything had been done by the book.
He was glad they didn’t ask how he felt and what he saw when he was down.
How could he have possibly explained the agony he had suffered, the bright light he’d seen, the compulsion to open his eyes and look into the blue, concerned depths of Skye Rydell’s eyes, or the sensation that she had been calling to him, insisting that he live?
He couldn’t. It seemed so ridiculous.
Soon, the questions ended. “We’ll be in touch if we need anything more from you, Trevor,” the captain said. “Meantime, take the time you need to heal. We’re all pulling for you to get back, but not before you’re ready.”
“We’re all glad you’re okay,” Theresa Agnew said again. “Any questions for us before we adjourn?”
“One,” Trevor said grimly. “What’s the word on Marinaro’s location?”
“Unknown,” Captain Franks said, “but we’ll get him.”
“Yeah,” Trevor said. He hoped they’d get him fast. Before he could hurt anyone else—civilian or cop.
Best of all would be if Marinaro stayed at large just long enough for Trevor to apprehend him…his way.
He should have left well enough alone and gone home as he was supposed to. But Trevor poked his head into a few offices at the station, receiving the applause of coworkers who were glad to see he was alive.
He couldn’t resist going over to the K-9 officers’ domain, which was filled with closely spaced cubicles and hooks from which leather leashes hung. There was a slight doggy aroma and an atmosphere of readiness to run that must have been created by the dogs sitting at attention near some desks.
Trevor was glad to note that one of the dogs was the black one assigned to Skye Rydell. Seeing Trevor, she stood and wagged her tail eagerly. So did a few other dogs. The K-9 handlers did as other people in the station had done.
“Good to see you, man,” said Tritt, who was near retirement and as mangy-looking as his dog.
“Glad you’re okay,” said Igoa, a huge grin lighting his narrow face.
But even while receiving their kudos, Trevor let his gaze remain on someone else. Skye was on the phone. She looked up, nodded cordially, but seemed in no hurry to congratulate him again on surviving.
On impulse, Trevor approached her when she hung up. “Hey, Skye.” He patted Bella on her sleek head. “Wanna grab a cup of coffee with me? I’d still like your opinion on what happened at that warehouse. What you saw, and all.”
“I just told the FID committee everything,” she said. “I’d really rather not go over it again.” She let her gaze rise just a little, but wouldn’t allow herself to completely meet his eyes.
Skye had seemed a little uneasy when she’d visited him at the hospital, but now she appeared really uncomfortable.
Why? What was she hiding? Had she known the suspect? Somehow been involved?
Unlikely, but she was definitely concealing something.
Right now they had an audience of her coworkers, so he wouldn’t press the point.
But he was definitely going to find out what Officer Skye Rydell wasn’t telling him.
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