Truth Or Lies

“I got more than that, Tremaine. I got me a personal relationship with Freddie. You ’member Freddie, doncha?” Shae saw from the look on the detective’s face that the name was all too familiar. “I’ve had me some…transactions with him.”

“You mean you deal to him,” Cade said flatly.

LeFrenz rolled his shoulders. “Don’t matter how I know him. Just that he came to me that night in a big hurry. Had to get out of town and he needed some…supplies before he went.”

Cade folded his arms over his chest. “Let me guess. You set him up with a quick fix. Easier to pump a junkie for details when he’s just starting to reach for that high, isn’t it? And Freddie must have been getting desperate by the time he found you.”

“You never know when this kind of information is going to come in handy.” One eye slid closed in a sly wink. “He was shook up, all right. Figured you both for dead. Had himself a wad of cash, too, so someone paid him off. Since cops don’t deal in that kind of money, I’m thinking the shooters did.”

The conversation was painting an all-too-vivid picture for Shae. She could almost hear the gunfire, see the bodies crumpled on the ground. But if the words were bringing back traumatic memories for Tremaine, it didn’t show in his expression. That awesome control was back, and the rage that had briefly flared had been reined in, hidden. Somehow that evidence of his restraint was as fearsome as his temper had been.

“Where’s Freddie now?”

Again LeFrenz shrugged. “Split, man. Guess it wouldn’t be too healthy for him to stick around here. But before he left, he told me all about the whole thing.”

Cade considered him for a long moment. “I’ll run it by the D.A., see if he wants to deal. But your tip has to lead somewhere before he even considers trading for it. And we’re still gonna need the name of your supplier, too, if you’re hoping to slip out of a murder rap.”

Her beeper sounded, an insistent reminder. Shae didn’t reach for it. She was transfixed by the scene playing out before her.

LeFrenz laughed, an ugly sound. “Now who’s blowing smoke? I give up a cop killer, they gonna give me the key to the city. You go on and call the D.A., Tremaine. Run this by him. He’ll deal. I guarantee it.” He looked at Shae then, clearly finished with the conversation. “So Angel Eyes, you gonna stay up here a while and keep me company? Fluff my pillows? Give me a sponge bath, maybe?”

“She needs to get back to the E.R. You’ve already wasted enough of her time, LeFrenz.” The detective took her elbow and guided her of the room.

“You come on back and see me tomorrow, Doc,” LeFrenz called after her. “You and me, we have lots to talk about.”

Once in the hallway, she reached for her beeper, saw the E.R. number. “I have to get downstairs,” she said numbly.

“I figured.” Tremaine was all business now. “Thanks for coming up today. There shouldn’t be any reason for you to be here tomorrow. I think Jonny will jump at whatever bone the D.A. decides to throw him.”

He walked her to the elevator, jabbed the down button. Shae cautioned herself to keep silent. This wasn’t her business, none of it. But the questions whirling around inside her wouldn’t be quieted. “Is what he said in there true?” When Cade only looked at her, she continued, “I mean about what happened to you and your partner.”

The doors of the elevator slid open. Before they stepped inside, she was forced nearer to him to make room for people to exit. She chose the corner opposite his at the back of the compartment and leaned against the wall as she waited for his answer.

“It was close enough,” he finally responded. “Whether he has any more than that remains to be seen. He might just be bluffing, trying to avoid giving up his supplier’s name.”

She studied him, but his profile could have been set in stone. No one would guess that he was talking about discovering the identity of the man, or men, who’d shot him. Who’d killed his partner.

Something compelled her to push further. “And if he does have information about your partner’s death?” She waited for the detective’s gaze to meet hers. “What then? Will that boy who died be ignored in favor of arresting a cop killer?”

“Unless you want to loan me that crystal ball of yours, I have no idea what the D.A. is going to go for. Whichever is the surest thing, I imagine.”

The elevator doors opened to the E.R. floor. But Shae didn’t move. She couldn’t. No more than she could prevent the bitterness from shading her tone. “So that’s justice to you? The surest thing? Trading information for freedom with scum like that the way kids trade baseball cards?” There was a burning in her chest that was all too familiar. A helpless hopeless fury that she could never seem to completely dispel.

He stepped out of the elevator, his voice trailing over his shoulder. “It might not pass for justice to you, Doc. But sometimes it’s the only thing we’ve got.”

Chapter 3

“I liked the monkeys best.” The pigtailed six-year-old at Shae’s side skipped a little as they made their way down the hallway back to her apartment. “Especially the ones with the rainbows on their bottoms.”

“Those are baboons, honey.” Shae smiled at TeKayla’s description. “But they were funny, weren’t they?”

The little girl nodded. “And I liked feeding crackers to the giraffes, too. Can we go back to the zoo sometime?”

Stopping before the girl’s door, Shae rang the bell. “Maybe next month.” Noting a sulk on the way, she reminded the girl, “You wanted to go to the alligator farm next, remember?”

TeKayla brightened just as the door swung open. “Momma, Momma, guess what?” She barreled through the doorway and wrapped her arms around her mother’s legs. “Shae’s gonna take me to a gator farm next.”

“That sounds fine, baby doll.” Weariness sounded in the woman’s voice, showed on her face. She managed a wan smile for Shae. “Thanks for taking her to the zoo. I know she can be a handful.”

“No problem. Did you get any sleep while we were gone?” Hapi Gleason worked two jobs, one of them third shift. TeKayla spent much of the time at home with a sitter when her mother could afford it, and alone when she couldn’t. Shae knew Social Services were aware of the situation, but recent budget cuts had decreased their resources. So far, their involvement hadn’t seemed to change things appreciably.

The door was already closing. “Had me laundry to do. Din’t have no time for sleep.”

“Well, let me know if I can—” the door closed in her face “—help.” Staring at the raised panels, she sighed. There was no doubt in her mind that Hapi considered her an interfering do-gooder. But the truth was…

The truth, she thought, as she made her way to the elevator to go up to her apartment, was that fifteen years ago she’d have thought the same thing about anyone who tried to lend her assistance. She’d have viewed it with doubt and suspicion and sooner have spit on it than accept help, however well intended. At any rate, it was totally out of character for her to get involved like this. Her patients were her duty, her neighbors were not. Other than the Gleasons and the super, she had only a nodding acquaintance with the other people in her building. That had always been the way she liked it. Her hours didn’t give her a lot of free time, and the time off she did have would be better spent on her own errands and chores.

When the elevator doors opened on the top floor, she went to her door and inserted the key. From the first there had been something about TeKayla’s gap-toothed grin and puppy-dog friendliness that had charmed her. The child spent way too much time unsupervised on the stoop out front, even when her mother was home. Although this was a decent enough neighborhood, it was old and close enough to the projects to warrant exercising some caution.

She pushed open the door, dropped her keys and the mail she’d collected from her mailbox downstairs on the table beside it. Crossing to the closet, she hung up her coat and purse. There was no way she would have been able to afford this much space in a more exclusive neighborhood. The entire top floor had been converted to a loft apartment, with screens and throw rugs delineating the space. Upstairs, beneath a huge skylight, was a bedroom with an attached bath. It was simple, comfortable and private. It fit her needs precisely.

Walking to the kitchen tucked into one corner, she opened the fridge and took out a bottle of water. Twisting off the cap, she tipped it to her lips, drank.

“Quite a place you got here, Shae girl.”

The bottle dropped from nerveless fingers as she swung around, her gaze sweeping the area for a weapon. She had her hand on the knife board before she recognized the voice. It was telling that even then, especially then, she had to force herself to release her grip on the weapon.

“What are you doing here, Da?” Her tone was flat, no welcome in it. She watched the tall handsome, man stroll down the spiral staircase from the loft, before posing theatrically at its base, arms spread.

“Shae, my girl, is that any way to greet your old man? Come over and give me a proper welcome.”

A proper welcome would be something between a knife in his heart and a boot out the door. She settled for uncompromising indifference. “Most people use the doorbell. Mind telling me how you got in here?”

One well-manicured index finger to his lips, Ryan O’Riley said, “Now, now. You know I never divulge my methods.”

“You don’t have to. You either broke in or bribed someone.” She bent down, picked up the bottle she’d dropped and grabbed a towel to wipe up the water that had spilled. “Knowing your basic lack of ambition, I imagine bribery was your means of choice.”

“You’ve grown hard, girl.” An expression of sadness settled on Ryan’s face as he heaved a sigh. “I blame myself for that.”

Rising again, she tossed the wet towel in the sink. “There’s plenty to blame yourself for, Da. By all means, don’t stop there.”

If age had caught up with Ryan McCabe O’Riley, it hadn’t dared to show itself. His six-foot frame was still straight, his red hair as bright as her own. His unlined face looked a good ten years younger than its fifty years. It was amazing, Shae thought bitterly, what living without care or conscience could do for a person.

“I wouldn’t say no to one of those bottled waters if you were to offer,” he hinted broadly, leaning against the counter.

It was on the tip of her tongue to refuse. But spitefulness wouldn’t solve anything, and it certainly wouldn’t get rid of him. When he wanted something, her father could be amazingly thick-skinned. And he definitely wanted something, or he never would have shown up here.

She got him a water, slid it over to him. “I’m not giving you any money.”