Twice A Hero, Always Her Man

Colin looked at her puzzled, not quite following the sexy reporter. “Excuse me?”

“The paintings,” Ellie prompted. “The stolen paintings that were in the storage unit you found.”

Colin nodded in response but said nothing.

“Well?” she asked, waiting for him to start speaking. Talk about having to pull words out of someone’s mouth. The detective was either exceptionally modest or exceedingly camera shy.

“That about covers it,” he told her.

She could see by the look that Jerry gave her that he had the same thought as she did. This wasn’t going to film well, not unless she could find a way to make this detective come around and start talking. She had a feeling that he would engage the audience once he got comfortable.

“You’re being modest,” she said, her voice coaxing him to elaborate.

He surprised her by saying, “Bragging rights aren’t a part of this job.”

Okay, she thought. He did need to be coaxed. A lot. She had to admit that this wasn’t what she’d expected. Some people, once they got in front of a camera, wouldn’t stop talking. This one seemed reluctant to even start.

“Still, I’m sure that it’s not every police detective who gets to take down an art thief who’s been plaguing the city.”

“I really can’t take any kind of credit for what happened. It’s not as if this was the result of long hours of planning.” He shrugged. “This was all actually just a big accident,” Colin told her.

The job had made her somewhat cynical. It wasn’t anything that she was particularly proud of, just a fact. But Ellie was beginning to believe that the detective was being serious. He was the genuine article. And because of this, she found herself trying to reach out to Benteen.

“There’s that modesty again,” she said. “I tell you what—why don’t you walk me through exactly what happened and we’ll go from there?”

She could see by the look on the detective’s face that he was about to dismiss the whole incident. It made him a rare find in her book. Most men couldn’t stop talking about themselves. But the station manager obviously was expecting a story and she wasn’t about to come back empty-handed. It wasn’t advisable.

“Word for word,” Ellie urged again. “Paint a picture for me, so to speak.”

Colin glared at the camera in Jerry’s hands. It was clearly the enemy. “Are you going to film this?”

“That is the idea,” Ellie said breezily. “Jerry’s just going to keep on filming and when we’re done, it’ll be edited down to about a minute of airtime. Two, tops,” she promised. She could see that the detective was wavering. All he needed was a little push that would send him over to her side. She felt she had just the thing. “You get final say on the footage.”

“I do?” Colin asked, not entirely certain that she was on the level. He was aware of how badly some of his fellow detectives had been portrayed to the public. He wanted no part of that.

“Maybe this’ll convince you,” she said, trying again. “Your CO signed off on this because he knew this would create a positive image of the Bedford PD. And my station manager thought this would be a feel-good piece that would really go over well, especially since those pieces are so few and far between.”

“Well, I guess I’m sold, then,” Colin told her. What he was sold on, he admitted, was the way her clear blue eyes seemed to sparkle as she tried to convince him. That alone was worth the price of admission.

Ellie smiled at the detective.

“Good.” She glanced over her shoulder to make sure that Jerry had the camera in position. He did. “All right, just tell me what happened.”

“Tell you?” he asked, thinking he was supposed to talk to the camera.

“Just me,” she assured him. “Talk to me.”

That made it easier. She had a face that invited conversation—as well as a number of other stray thoughts. “I’d just dropped off my niece, Heather, at school—”

Her ears instantly perked up. “Is that a usual thing for you?” The man was beginning to sound like a Boy Scout.

“It is ever since I became her sole guardian,” Colin answered matter-of-factly.

As a human-interest story, this was just getting better and better, Ellie thought. She made a mental note to ask him more questions regarding that situation so she could annotate her commentary once the film had been edited.

“Go on,” she urged.

“An APB came on over the two-way radio about a B and E that had just gone down less than three blocks away from Heather’s school,” he said.

She wanted to get back to that, but first she wanted him to explain some of the terminology he’d just used. “An APB and B and E?” she asked, waiting for him to spell the words out. She knew what he was saying, but the audience might not.

“All points bulletin and breaking and entering,” the detective explained. He was so used to those terms and others being tossed around that it didn’t occur to him that someone might not know what he was talking about.

“Okay. Go on,” she said, smiling at him.

It was a smile he caught himself thinking he could follow to the ends of the earth.

But not anymore, remember?

“The homeowner called 911 to say that he’d heard a noise and when he woke up, he saw a man running across his lawn carrying off his painting. Apparently, the thief had broken in while the guy was still asleep.”

She nodded, focusing on the image of a thief dashing across a lawn with a stolen painting clutched in his hands.

“Definitely not something you see every day,” Ellie agreed drolly.

Colin nodded. “That’s when I saw this guy driving a van that matched the description dispatch had put out. So I followed him. Turns out it wasn’t all that far away,” he added. “He took the painting to a local storage unit. As I watched him, he stashed the painting he’d just stolen in an ordinary storage unit. When I came up behind him, I saw that he had what amounted to fifteen other paintings inside the unit.” Colin paused in his narrative to tell her, “There’ve been a rash of paintings stolen in Bedford in the last eighteen months.”

She looked at him, waiting for more. When he didn’t continue or make any attempt to brag, she asked, “And the paintings that you saw, were they the ones that had been stolen?”

He nodded. “One and the same.”

She tried to get more details. “Was this guy part of a gang?”

“Not from anything that I could ascertain,” Colin told her. “When I questioned him, he said he had taken all the paintings. I think he was telling the truth.”

“And he hadn’t tried to fence any of them?” she asked. It didn’t seem possible.

Colin laughed softly. “Turns out that the guy just likes works of art and he didn’t have the money to buy any of his own, so he came up with this plan.” Colin shrugged. “Takes all kinds,” was his comment.

It certainly did, Ellie silently agreed. “That almost sounds too easy,” she said.

“I know,” he replied. “But sometimes everything just falls into place at the right time and the right way. It doesn’t happen often,” Colin allowed. “But it does happen.”

“Well, apparently, it did for you,” Ellie observed. She all but expected to see the detective kick the dust and murmur, “Ah, shucks.”

Colin turned out not to be as clueless as she momentarily thought him to be. A knowing smile curved his mouth as he guessed, “You’re not convinced.”

The smile came of its own volition. “It’s my doubting-Thomas side,” she admitted.

“We’re checking the guy for priors,” Colin told her. “Right now he’s clean, but we’re not finished. I could give you an update later,” he offered.

“I would appreciate it,” she said, then turned toward something that she knew would interest her viewers. “Tell me more about your niece. How long have you been her guardian?”

The question caught him off guard. They were just talking about the thief’s lack of priors. “Is that important?” he asked, unclear as to why it should be, especially in this context.

If nothing else, Ellie knew her audience and how to make a story appealing to them. “The viewers love to hear details like that about selfless heroes.”

“I’m not a hero and I’m not selfless,” he told her, his manner saying that he wasn’t just mouthing platitudes or what he felt passed for just the right amount of humility. His tone told Ellie that this detective was being straightforward with her, which she had to admit impressed her. He could have just as easily allowed her to build him up without protest.

“Why don’t we leave that to the viewer to decide?” Ellie suggested. “Now, how long have you been your niece’s guardian?”

“Six months,” he told her.

Again, he didn’t elaborate or tell her any more than the bare minimum. Was he being modest? Or was that a highly developed sense of privacy taking over?

Either way, her job was to push the boundaries a little in order to get him to open up. “What happened?” she asked.

He didn’t look annoyed, but he did ask, “Is this really necessary?”

She was honest with him, sensing that the detective would appreciate it. “For the story? No. This is just me asking.”

That brought up another host of questions in his mind. “Why?”

She wanted him to trust her. She needed to know the kind of man her husband had spent the last seconds of his life with. Only then would she know if he had done all that he could to try to save Brett. She was aware that he had probably said he had and filled out a report to that effect, but she wanted to be convinced.

“Shut off the camera, Jerry,” she said, glancing over her shoulder at her cameraman. “We’ve got our story. I’ll meet you at the van.”

Jerry looked at her skeptically, still worried about her. She hadn’t told the detective of their connection yet, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t going to, and when she did, she might need someone there for her.

But he couldn’t say anything, because it wasn’t his place. And if he did say anything, he knew that Ellie would put him in his place because she refused to tolerate anything remotely resembling pity, even if it came in the guise of sympathy.

All he could do was ask, “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.” The words Now go were implied if not said out loud.

Shaking his head, Jerry took his camera and walked out.

“See you around, Detective,” he said by way of a parting comment.

Turning back to the detective, Ellie picked up the conversation where she’d left it. “You asked me why before.”

Colin had just assumed that she’d forgotten and would go off on another topic. That she didn’t raised his estimation of her. And he really had to say that so far, he liked what he saw. Liked it a lot. Maybe there was hope for him yet. At least, he’d like to think so.

“Yes, I did.” His tone gave her an opening to continue her line of thinking.

“Because I am one of those people who has to know everything,” she told him simply. “That doesn’t mean I repeat everything I hear or everything I know, but I need to know it. And once I have all the information and can process it, then I can move on.”

He looked at her and made a judgment call. “So this really isn’t for your ‘story’?” he asked.

“No. Not directly.” And then she qualified her statement. “That doesn’t mean that I won’t use a piece of what you tell me—but again, we’ll run it by you first. You’ll get the final okay.”

He had to admit that he thought it a generous way to proceed. “Is this your normal procedure?”

Ellie laughed. She had no idea that he found the sound captivating. “There is no such thing as ‘normal’ procedure. It is what it is at the moment.”

Colin paused, considering her words and if he believed her.

Like a lot of true dyed-in-the-wool detectives, he had “gut feelings.”

“Gut feelings” that saw him through a lot and, on occasion, kept him safe. His gut feeling told him that the woman with the deep crystal-blue eyes was telling him the truth.

He took a chance. “They died in an avalanche.”

“That had to be terrible for you,” she said. It was certainly different from the usual car crash or drive-by shooting. She managed to control her reaction so he wasn’t aware that what he said had affected her.

“It wasn’t exactly a walk in the park for Heather, either,” he pointed out.

“You were the one who broke the news to her?” Even as Ellie asked the question, she knew that he would have taken it upon himself to tell his niece. Benteen struck her as that sort of person. She was filled with empathy for both the detective and his niece, knowing what being told news like that felt like.

“I wasn’t about to let anyone else do it,” he said.

No, I wouldn’t have thought so.

Without her realizing it, her estimation of the detective rose up yet another notch.

Chapter Four

Jerry appeared to be dozing in the news van, but he snapped to attention the moment the passenger-side door opened.

“So, how did he take it?” the cameraman asked her.

“Take it?” Ellie repeated absently as she climbed into the van. After closing the door, she pulled on her seat belt and snapped it into place.

Jerry watched her intently for a moment. “You didn’t tell him that he was there the night your husband died, did you?”

Ellie shrugged, settling into her seat. “I didn’t get an opportunity.” She avoided looking at Jerry as she said, “The timing wasn’t right.”

Jerry turned his key, starting up the van. For an instant, the music he’d had playing on the radio stopped, then resumed. Someone was singing about surviving.

“This isn’t the game-winning pitch to home plate we’re talking about, Ellie. Don’t you think the good detective should know that he tried to save the husband of the woman who was interviewing him?”

“I don’t see how that would make any difference to this story,” she countered stubbornly.

“No,” Jerry allowed, “but it might make a difference to him.”

There was a measure of defiance in Ellie’s eyes as she turned them on Jerry.

“Why? I’m going to treat him fairly. We’ve got nothing but glowing words for him in this spot. His CO seemed pretty high on him and I’m sure if we interview a couple of the people whose paintings were recovered, they’ll talk about him like he’s their patron saint come to earth.”

Jerry sighed as he barreled through a yellow light before it turned red, narrowly missing cutting off a tan SUV.

“He’s a good guy, yes, I get that. But that doesn’t change the fact that you should tell him about your connection,” he insisted.

She didn’t see what good it would do and telling Benteen would force her to relive a night she couldn’t seem to permanently bury.

“Why?” she challenged.

Jerry gave her a look. “Because you shouldn’t be keeping it from him.”

She didn’t normally get annoyed, but “normal” was no longer part of her daily life.

“How did I get to be the bad guy in this?” she asked.

“You’re not,” Jerry told her in a voice that was much lower than hers, “but if you don’t tell him, this is going to be something that’ll just fester between you and him—until it finally comes out. Think how uncomfortable you’ll feel then.”

“Well, it’s not like we’re going to be working together or we’re a couple,” she pointed out impatiently. “Once the story airs, we probably won’t ever even run into one another.”

The funny thing was, Ellie thought, that the detective was just the kind of man her mother would have picked out for her once upon a time. There was a lot about him that reminded her of Brett.

The next moment, she shut all those thoughts down. “For now,” she said, addressing the point that Jerry had raised, “let’s just say that maybe I didn’t want to make him feel uncomfortable.”

“Is that it?” Jerry asked. “Or is it that you just want to hold something back and maybe, oh, I don’t know, spring it on him later?”

Why in heaven’s name would she want to do that? Ellie shook her head.

“I think that you’ve been watching too many procedurals, Jerry,” she told him.

The light turned red, forcing Jerry to come to a stop and allowing him to really stare at her as he said, “No, it’s just that I care about you.”

“Do me a favor. Care a little less,” she requested. “I can take care of myself.”

Jerry frowned. The light turned green and he hit the gas again. “I’m not so sure about that.”

What had gotten into him? Jerry had always been her chief supporter. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It’s just that sometimes I get the feeling that you’re just sleepwalking through life, that you’ve decided to check out.”

He pulled into a parking spot but made no effort to get out. He’d faithfully followed her around and they made a great team, but she wasn’t about to hold on to him against his will.

“Are you telling me that you want to switch news reporters?” she asked suddenly. “Because if you do, I’m not going to stand in your way.”

“No, I don’t want to switch reporters.” He frowned. “You know, you never used to be this touchy.”

“Things change,” she said vaguely.

His eyes narrowed as they bore right into her. “Do they?”

“Okay, now you’re really beginning to sound like my mother, and while I really love her, I do not need two of her,” she informed him, one hand on the car’s doorknob. “You heard me. Once the piece you got today is edited, I did promise Detective Benteen that we’d let him have the final okay. When he does okay it, then I’ll tell him. Does that meet with your approval?” she asked.

She realized that she was being short-tempered with Jerry because she knew he was right. But at the same time, she didn’t want to go there, didn’t want to revisit the pain that went with all that.

“You don’t need my approval, Ellie.”

“No,” she told him pointedly, agreeing. “I don’t. I also don’t need you glaring at me, either.”

“I’m not glaring,” he protested. “I was just looking at you. The rest is in your head.”

Ellie sighed. “How does your wife put up with you, anyway?” she asked as the tension began to drain from her. She’d overreacted and she knew it. Now all she wanted to do was just forget about it and get this piece in to the editor.

Jerry laughed. “Betsy worships the ground I walk on—you know that.”

“Uh-huh,” she murmured, getting out of the van. “Let’s go get some of our background material for this story.”

Jerry got out on his side, taking his faithful camera with him. “Your wish is my command.”

Ellie spared him a glance as she rolled her eyes. “If only...”

* * *

Colin sighed. It had been a long, long day.

After his morning had started out with all four burners going, what with the lucky catch of that thief and his cache and then that knockout news reporter coming to ask him questions, his afternoon had turned into a slow-moving turtle, surrounding him with a massive collection of never-ending paperwork. Paperwork that he’d neglected far too long.

The trouble with ignoring paperwork was that it didn’t go away; it just seemed to sit in dark corners and multiply until it became an overwhelming stack that refused to be ignored. Unfortunately, he’d reached that point today. He supposed it was a way to keep him humble, even though he wasn’t given to grappling with a large ego. Philosophically, he’d rolled up his sleeves because he knew he had to do something to at least whittle down the pile a little before it smothered him.

Rather than begin at the beginning, which might have been the orderly thing to do, Colin decided to start with the most recent file since that case had been the one that brought the reporter into his life.

Besides, there was nothing like the feeling that came from actually being able to close a case rather than having it linger on indefinitely, doggedly haunting him because he hadn’t been able to solve it.

What he especially liked about this last case—other than the fact that it had introduced him to the sexy reporter—was that the thief had been taken down, so to speak, without his having to fire a single shot. Not all cases involving robbery ended so peacefully.

More often than not, someone was hurt, sometimes fatally. Colin didn’t admit it out loud, but he took it hard when that happened. It wasn’t that he thought of himself as some kind of superhero who should be able to prevent things like that from happening. He didn’t think of himself as a hero at all, but the fact that he wasn’t able to prevent a fatality really ate away at him for a long time.

Maybe that was why before Heather had become his responsibility, he had lived a faster life, determined to enjoy himself as much as possible. Partly because life was short and could end at any time and partially to erase certain images from his mind.

Images like having a would-be hero’s blood pool through the fingers of his hand as he desperately tried to stem the flow, desperately tried to keep the man alive. But he’d come on the scene just minutes too late. Too late to stop the gunman from firing that lethal shot, but at least not too late to take the gunman down.

It still kept him up at night sometimes or disturbed his dreams, intruding like an uninvited, unwanted visitor determined to disrupt everything. Those were the nights when Heather came into his bedroom to wake him up instead of the other way around.

They were a pair, he and Heather. Both trying to act as if nothing bothered them. She was becoming more like him each day, he realized, wondering how Ryan would have reacted to that little piece of news.

He found himself wishing Ryan was around to react to anything.

Colin rotated his shoulders, then just got up from his desk altogether. There was only so much sitting at a computer, inputting information, that a man could be expected to do.

He needed to get some air, he decided.

“See another art thief darting by?” Marconi, another detective sitting close by, asked as he looked up to see him walking out.

Colin took the remark in stride. “Very funny. I need to stretch my legs.”

“Hey, Benteen, so when do we get to see that chiseled profile on TV?” another detective, Al Sanchez, asked, speaking up.

Colin merely shrugged. That alluring reporter had said she’d get back to him, but she hadn’t mentioned when. “Beats me.”

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