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  “So, what’s new, Lauren?” Mike said as we sat. He was back on with the cop humor.

  I sipped my coffee in the awkward silence between us. The joe was scalding and bitter. A lot like what I now had to admit.

  Mike winked at me.

  “C’mon, Lauren. I killed an Ordonez,” he said in a low voice. “Now you’ve killed an Ordonez. If you can’t talk to me, who else is there?”

  I told him everything. Staring into my coffee cup, I recited the whole story. What I knew. When I knew it. Every sordid twist and every tawdry turn.

  Mike took a last, loud sip of his Diet Coke and looked out at the passing headlights.

  “You know what, Lauren?” he said after a while.

  I shook my head.

  “Call me screwed up, but even after hearing all that, I’m pretty much glad about what’s happened. Maybe they didn’t kill Scott, but let’s face it, those two Ordonez brethren were an ugly strain of bacteria. And if what brother Mark said was true about Scott being involved with them, then, hell, maybe even he had it coming. The Lord,” Mike said, “He sure do work in mysterious ways.”

  Chapter 90

  I LISTENED TO THE clattering plates in the diner. Something was sizzling on a grill. On the TV behind the register, a reporter was cackling like an idiot as he was buffeted by the high winds of a Florida storm.

  “That’s why I’m quitting,” my partner suddenly said. “My little brother owns a bar in San Juan. He invited me down. I already put my papers in. I’m cashing in all the vacation I’ve been saving, so today was my last day. I’m out.”

  “But . . .”

  “But what, Lauren?” Mike said. “I’ve put my time in, and you know what? It didn’t work out, so screw it. If you make a mistake at a factory and someone gets hurt, what’s the worst thing that can happen? You’ll lose your job? In our job, you make a mistake, chances are you’re losing your job and going to jail. For what? Fifty grand a year? We’re not even allowed to go on strike. Please. You know how many dead people I’ve dealt with? How many grieving mothers? Not worth it. I’m over. What’s that song, Lauren? ‘Even walls fall down.’ ”

  I started weeping again then, really crying my eyes out.

  “Yeah,” I managed to say. “And I’m the one holding the sledgehammer.”

  Mike wiped the tears off my cheek with his thumb.

  “Bullshit,” he said. “Me pulling that trigger had nothing to do with you.”

  I stared at him.

  “Nothing?” I said.

  “Well,” he said, pinching his thumb and first finger together. “Maybe a teensy-weensy bit.”

  I punched him in his arm.

  “But I forgive you, Lauren,” he said. “We’re partners. But when it comes down to doing the right thing for your family, well, things get hairy quick, don’t they? Who am I to judge? No one. Not anymore. That’s why I’m out. Though I do regret one thing.”

  “What’s that?” I said.

  “Not being there to see the million-megawatt grin slide off that slick Jeff Buslik’s face when you blackmailed him. I always knew you were an ass kicker, but Christ. You go right for the jugular when you have to.”

  “Or lower,” I said, wiping at my red eyes. “Whatever the situation calls for.”

  Mike lifted the ketchup bottle and made the sign of the cross at me with it.

  “You are now forgiven for your sins, my child. Go forth unto the Earth and sin no more,” he said, standing. “I mean it, Lauren. You’re a good person. Don’t ever forget that.”

  “I’ll try not to, Mike.”

  He gave me a kiss on my forehead before he stood.

  “And if you ever make your way down to San Juan, you look me up. Ex-partners, even ones involved in super-crazy shit like you, get hooked up with margaritas all night long.”

  Chapter 91

  I WAS COMING OUT of the shower Monday morning of the following week when I found Paul waiting for me. He held my morning coffee in one hand and my fluffy bathrobe in the other. “What service,” I said, beaming a smile at him. “I almost can’t stand it. Almost.”

  “Least I could do, considering what a big day this is,” he said, planting a kiss on my dripping nose.

  It was a big day, I thought as I was royally assisted into my robe. I took a sip of the coffee and wiped the steam off the mirror with my sleeve and looked at myself.

  My first day back to work.

  And the last of my career.

  I’d decided to take my partner Mike’s lead. I was going to hand in my resignation today, finally get out. It would be a change for me, I knew. It was going to be incredibly hard to get used to not being a cop.

  But given what had happened over the past several weeks, I had to admit that it was high time for me to make the move.

  Twenty minutes later, my face and badge polished, Paul gave me another kiss at the garage door.

  He was dressed for work as well, looking great, handsome as ever. His concussion, like the doctors had thought, had only been minor, thank God. Except for twenty or so stitches at the back of his head, he was as good as new.

  He, too, was wrapping things up at work. It was all arranged now. We’d gotten the paperwork from the relocation company on Friday. Both closings were set. Paul’s new Connecticut job and our new Connecticut lives would start in six weeks.

  If we could get through the next eight hours.

  Not exactly a sure thing, considering our recent history. I crossed my fingers as I raised my travel mug to his.

  “The family that quits the rat race together . . . ,” I said.

  “Stays together,” Paul said as the clink of stainless steel echoed off the walls of the garage.

  Chapter 92

  I CAUGHT LIEUTENANT KEANE in his office when I came into the squad room. He only looked up from his Post sudoku puzzle after I closed his door.

  Then his sharp blue eyes scanned my face. Suddenly, he slapped his paper and pen onto his desk.

  “Please,” he said. “Not you, too. Don’t tell me you’re leaving. You can’t. How does that make sense, Lauren? We lose one cop, and now two more are gone?”

  “It’s not like that, LT. You’re reading this wrong.”

  “Please. Do I look stupid? If it’s IAB you’re worried about, I have hooks and —”

  “I’m pregnant, Pete,” I said.

  Keane stared at me as if I’d shot a round into the ceiling. He rubbed at his eyes with his fingertips. Finally, reluctantly, he smiled. Then he stood and walked around his desk and gave me a fatherly hug. The first, I believe, he’d ever given me. Probably the last, too.

  “Well, young lady, even though I don’t remember giving you permission to get pregnant, congratulations to you and Paul. I’m happy for you both.”

  “I appreciate it, boss man.”

  “You had some trouble, too, if I remember. Ann and I did, too — before the twins. That’s just terrific for you guys. You have to be ecstatic. I’m sickened by the fact you’re completely screwing me by leaving, but I’ll get used to it, I suppose. I’m sure as hell going to miss you. I guess going out and tying one on is out of the question. How can we celebrate? How about some breakfast?”

  My boss ordered in from the precinct’s local bodega, and we sat for half the morning, telling old stories as we ate scrambled egg quesadillas and drank coffee.

  “Hey, if I’d known it was going to be this much fun,” I said, wiping hot sauce off my cheek, “I would have retired years ago.”

  Keane’s desk phone rang as we were finishing our coffee.

  “Yeah?” he called into it.

  “That’s weird. That’s very strange. Okay, send her up, I guess.”

  “Send up who?” I asked, an edge creeping into my voice.

  “The witness in Scott’s case. What’s her name? The old schoolmarm?”

  My heart and stomach did a simultaneous stutter step.

  Amelia Phelps!

  What now?

  “What does she want?
” I asked.

  Keane pointed his sharp chin out at the rail of the squad room stairs, where Amelia Phelps was standing.

  “You can start your two weeks’ notice by finding out. Go talk to her.”

  I got right up and walked out to see what was up.

  “Yes, Mrs. — I mean, Ms. Phelps,” I said, leading her to my desk. “What can I do for you today?”

  “I was expecting to get a call to come in and look at a lineup,” she said, removing her white gloves as she sat. “But no one ever got in touch, so I thought I’d stop by and ask if I can be of any assistance.”

  I let out a long breath of relief. Mike must have forgotten to let her know we wouldn’t need her after all.

  “I’m sorry, Ms. Phelps, I should have called you. It turns out we apprehended the suspect, so we no longer need your help. It was so good of you to come in, though. Can I give you a ride somewhere? Back to your house maybe? It wouldn’t be any trouble.”

  I usually wasn’t in the business of chauffeuring witnesses, but Ms. Phelps was elderly. And besides, she was the last conceivable wrinkle in the whole ordeal. The sooner I got her out of there, the better.

  “Oh, okay,” she said. “That would be very nice, Detective. I’ve never actually ridden in a police car before. Thank you.”

  “Believe me,” I said, steering her toward the exit. “It’s no problem at all.”

  Chapter 93

  THE REST OF THE DAY I spent on the phone with personnel. On hold with personnel was more like it as I attempted to hash out the bureaucratic details of my resignation.

  Periodically, my fellow squaddies came by to register their surprise and well wishes. They even insisted I head out with them around four to The Sportsmen, the precinct’s local gin mill, for a farewell drink.

  Though my bladder came dangerously close to the bursting point at the bar — with Diet Cokes, of course — I was deeply touched by my co-workers’ concern and respect.

  They even gave me one of those corny, oversize greeting cards with what had to be the entire precinct’s signatures.

  See ya, it said on the front.

  And on the inside, Wouldn’t wanna be ya.

  Who knew Hallmark had an NYC Cop Attitude section?

  “Oh, guys,” I said with a sniffle. “I’m going to miss you, too. And I wouldn’t want to be ya either.”

  It was around seven when I finally begged out of there and headed for home.

  That’s funny, I thought, as I pulled into my driveway. I didn’t see Paul’s car. He usually called to let me know when he had to work late.

  I was opening the call file on my cell to ring him, when I noticed something kind of strange in the den window over the garage.

  There was a dark gap in the slats of the blinds. As I scrolled down for Paul’s cell number, I tried to remember the last time I’d opened them.

  I looked back up, slowly, very deliberately, then shut my cell phone with a click.

  The gap in the blinds had closed.

  Wait a second, I thought. Hold on.

  My mind raced as I thought of the possibilities. Could this be more friends of the Ordonezes? Maybe there was another brother I didn’t know about?

  Or maybe you’re just tired and paranoid, I thought. Maybe one too many Diet Cokes at The Sportsmen.

  I pulled out my Glock and put it in the belt of my skirt at the back.

  Most definitely a little skittish, I thought. But better paranoid than sorry.

  Chapter 94

  I TOOK OUT MY KEYS as I came up the stairs, acting as naturally as I could. When I was out of sight of the den window, I drew my gun and ran around to the back of my house.

  I glanced at the windows. Everything seemed intact. No sign of a break-in. No trouble so far.

  There was a small gap in the curtains at the back door. I peered through it, watching the front-to-back hallway for a while. No movement. Nothing.

  After a few minutes, I began to feel silly. There was nobody there but me.

  Then, at the end of the hall near the door, something suddenly crossed through the dark hall. A large shadow moving quickly. I was sure of it.

  Shit! I thought as my pulse pounded. Christ! I could feel my heartbeat in the fillings of my teeth.

  That’s when I thought of Paul. Maybe he actually was home. And there was somebody in there with him. Running around in the dark. Who? For what possible reason?

  I had to go inside, I decided with a deep breath.

  I slipped off my shoes and, with painstaking quiet, unlocked the back door and turned the knob, as slowly as I could.

  “Shh,” I heard somebody say. Not me.

  I was lifting my Glock toward the sound, ready to squeeze off a shot, when the lights went on.

  “SURPRISE!” said a couple of dozen voices in unison.

  I’ll say! Jesus God, it was my friends and family. The female ones, at least. By some miracle, I didn’t fire a round. Thank goodness for safe-action pistols.

  I gaped at the Mylar balloons, the green-and-yellow-wrapped presents, the three-wheel yuppie jogging stroller parked in the corner.

  It wasn’t a home invasion after all. Not bad news or tragedy.

  It was my baby shower!

  And judging by the number of hands that shot up over open-mouthed, blood-drained faces, I guessed it had been a real surprise all around.

  I lowered my sights from between my elderly Aunt Lucy’s eyes. She started breathing again.

  “Look, Mommy,” my sister Michele’s four-year-old daughter said in the dead silence. “Auntie Lauren has a gun.”

  “It’s all right, ladies,” Paul said, smiling as he hurried forward and helped me to reholster my weapon. He gave me a hug to help me recover.

  “Why did you plan the shower for now? I’m only eleven weeks,” I whispered as he kissed me on the cheek.

  “I wanted to make sure you got a shower before the move,” Paul said, turning back toward the crowd. “Now, smile. Big smile. Enjoy your party.

  “It’s all right,” Paul repeated. “Just another day in the life of a hero cop. Thank God we have a fresh supply of diapers, huh? Who needs a drink?”

  Chapter 95

  THE SHOWER WAS A BIG SUCCESS — happy times for all, but especially for me. I had such good friends, and even my relatives were mostly nice. Life was finally starting to make some sense again. And then —

  “Hey, stranger!” Bonnie Clesnik said, dropping her menu and almost knocking the table over as she hugged me in the middle of the Mott Street Dragon Flower the Sunday after the baby shower.

  I looked around at the overly bright restaurant. There were cloudy-looking fish tanks everywhere. When my old CSU sergeant friend Bonnie called me to come out with her, I was thinking pub grub, home fries, a couple of Virgin Marys maybe.

  I blinked as I picked up the menu and saw the picture of a turtle and a frog. Wow. Sunday brunch in Chinatown. I guess Bonnie had never had morning sickness herself.

  “I can’t believe I missed your retirement party and your shower,” Bonnie said as we sat. “Someone on third shift called in sick, and wouldn’t you know it? I got the call.”

  “Save the regrets, Bonnie,” I said, smiling. “It’s me here. This is great. Perfect.” As long as I can keep the Chinese food down.

  “So,” Bonnie said midway through the dim sum. “All of a sudden, it’s so many changes for you. I would have thought they’d have to pry you off The Job with a hammer and a crowbar. I’m so happy for you and Paul, of course, but . . . I don’t know. I’ve seen how you work cases, Lauren. The glow in your eyes. How fearless you can be. I’m not the only woman cop you’ve inspired, either, by the way. I guess it’s hard for me to see you turn it all down and walk away. Somehow, I can’t see you as a soccer mom.”

  Gee, Bonnie. Thanks for the vote of confidence, I thought. Wasn’t this supposed to be a celebration? Let the good times flow?

  Suddenly, Bonnie laid down her chopsticks.

  “Before I forget,” she
said. “I have a gift.”

  Bonnie removed a large manila envelope from her bag and handed it to me. I opened the flap.

  “Just what I’ve always wanted,” I said, looking at the pages and then staring at my friend quizzically. “A computer printout.”

  What was going on now?

  “I received that on Friday from the FBI lab,” Bonnie said. She dabbed at her mouth with her napkin and looked into my eyes with kind concern. “It’s the results from the DNA sample I found on the tarp Scott Thayer was found wrapped in.”

  The world whited out for a second as a sudden heat flash sizzled through me.

  Our goddamned Neat Sheet! I actually remembered the picnic where Paul had provided his DNA sample!

  It was our first anniversary. Paul had brought me and two bottles of champagne up to the exquisitely beautiful Rockwood Hall Park in North Tarrytown. Had it ever gotten better for us? I doubted it. Late summer. Champagne and crickets, and just the two of us. It was the first time we’d actually tried to get pregnant.

  I glanced at the pages, then back at my friend.

  “What are you talking about?” I asked Bonnie. “I thought that you said all you could find was Scott’s blood.”

  “After I scraped it off, I noticed that there was another, older stain. It turns out it was dried semen. Just enough to get a DNA signature.”

  I squinted at the pages. What would it take for Scott’s case to stay closed? I wondered. Holy water? Pounding a stake through its heart? Shooting it with a silver bullet?

  And what the hell was I supposed to say now? Bonnie seemed to be waiting for something from me.

  “Why didn’t you tell me about this before?” I finally got up the courage to ask.

  “I tried to,” Bonnie said. “But it was the morning of the Ordonez shooting, and I couldn’t reach you. When I called your lieutenant the next day, he told me to shit-can it. They’d found Scott’s gun on Victor Ordonez, and the case was a slam-dunk.”

  “So what’s the problem?” I said.

  Bonnie let out a sigh.

  “What can I tell you, kid? The DNA isn’t from Ordonez. And yeah, I’m sure.”