Lying Eyes Page 15

  Stunned, Allison blinked. "Sure."

  "Is something wrong?"

  "No, I'm just surprised. I didn't expect to be offered a job on the spot."

  He grinned. "I recognized you from the photograph in the morning paper. The headline said you're considered something of a hero at Central Division. Anyone who saves a police detective's life twice in as many days is bound to know a lot about police procedures, so my offer stands. Or would you rather go back to San Diego and wait two weeks for a call from Human Resources?"

  Allison laughed. "Definitely not."

  "Good. I'll have HR mail you an employment packet. That way you can be enrolled in our health plan by the first day of August."

  "Thank you."

  She'd canceled her dinner plans last night, gone from the pizza place to the hotel to lick her wounds, and began searching the Internet for job openings in her field. When she'd happened on an opening at Cable News she'd polished her résumé and sent it off electronically.

  The enormity of that simple action hit her.

  "This is too easy. I keep expecting someone to knock on the door and tell me there's been a terrible mistake."

  "You come highly recommended by Captain Samson. That makes a big difference and six years’ experience with the same station counts for a lot. I feel lucky to get you. Are you having second thoughts about relocating?"

  At the present, I'm not sure of anything.

  "No, it's time."

  *****

  Allison took a cab straight to Union Station where she'd stored her luggage earlier and exchanged the return ticket she hadn't used for one on the first train heading to San Diego.

  I don't want to linger around this station. My memories of meeting Carlo here are still fresh and too painful to endure for long.

  His deep-voiced offer of assistance had been a life saver, his offer to share his taxi, too.

  When a man's voice announced her train was ready to board she followed about thirty other travelers out to the tracks. An Amtrak employee helped with her largest suitcase while she found a seat.

  So far, not many riders were seated in her car.

  Good, keep it that way. I need a peaceful trip.

  She'd like to close her heavy-lidded eyes and not open them again until the train stopped at the end of the line.

  Her eyelids drooped as if she'd wept for twenty-four hours. She almost had.

  Allison liked Susan and Marsha, but she wouldn't have been good company last night. As soon as Marsha claimed the last slice of pizza Allison had pleaded a headache and said her goodbyes.

  She'd mistakenly wanted to think.

  See what it got me?

  Swollen eyes and a red drippy nose.

  Don't think about Carlo now.

  Instead, think about my new job.

  Okay. She stared out the window at the empty rail yard as the train began to move.

  Except for a place to live, I won't need to go shopping for a while.

  Her professional wardrobe would all look new to a different audience.

  She'd need to familiarize herself with the stores in her chosen neighborhood and find out if Cable News enforced an employee dress code. She hoped not. She preferred to dress to suit her mood.

  She'd need to find a new OBGYN, and a dentist as soon as she was enrolled in the office health plan. No rush to join a gym.

  Life would sure have been less complicated if she'd accepted a position with another San Diego station.

  I'm glad I didn't. I need a change.

  Better watch your step at the Station for the next few days.

  A few days of Ellie's sympathetic sighs and Alice's triumphant expressions would be all she could stomach before doing something unladylike and in all likelihood certifiable to one of them.

  Maybe I'll start my new book. If I can write fifty pages before I move, relocating shouldn't interrupt my progress.

  She swiped away a tear. I'd planned to model my next alpha hero after Carlo.

  Darn.

  She needed a vacation. Maybe she could take a few days off before the move?

  Where would I go?

  Cancun?

  Travel to a favorite honeymoon destination alone?

  No way.

  Darn.

  She could rent a cabin at Idyllwild and hike to the Palm Springs Tramway for lunch.

  Not likely. I'd want Carlo along.

  Darn.

  As the train passed through Anaheim Allison squeezed her eyes shut. Exploring Disneyland without Carlo to share the fun would be a drag.

  Darn.

  The miles clicked by. When her head began to nod she crossed her arms on the table before her and rested her head on her arms.

  She woke when the conductor called, "Old Town" and lifted her head.

  By the time the train pulled into Union Station she was fully awake and the sun about to set over the Point Loma peninsula.

  No one offered to help with her luggage.

  Damn, Carlo.

  She missed his thoughtful gestures far more than she'd thought possible.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  During the next week Allison gave notice at the station, subscribed to the LA Times, and cancelled her gym membership. At night, she packed a little, tossed out a lot, including the opened packages of staples in her pantry.

  She even placed a few calls about places for rent.

  What's the best way to find out the safest areas of LA for a single woman to live?

  Maybe Rachael knows. Her college roommate had lived in Century City for over three years.

  Early the following evening Allison called her and was delighted when Rachael offered her the use of her condo for the three months Rachael would be touring Europe. Allison accepted on the spot, since her friend planned to leave the first of July.

  My work days drag. My packing time flies by but sleep eludes me.

  How am I ever going to get this all done?

  She struggled out of bed each morning and worked her shift. At night she jogged at least five miles before showering and grabbing a bite to eat.

  My social life is nonexistent, my to-do list endless, and my feet are dragging. I'm losing weight and have no reason to get out of bed.

  She ate another bite. No that's wrong.

  I do have a new job to prepare for.

  The thought put renewed spring in Allison's step as she put her soiled dishes in the sink and straightened the living room.

  I'll soon be living and working in a new city.

  One closer to Carlo.

  Darn.

  Allison decided not to give notice on her apartment for two more months. She could easily pay the rent on two apartments, and wanted to be certain she picked the right area of LA to live in before she completed the move.

  She remembered driving through Studio City once on her way to Universal Studios, but she'd never dreamed she would someday be weighing the wisdom of moving there.

  Living in Rachael's condo for a few weeks would give her time to get her bearings and make arrangements to move.

  Once she decided the order in which she needed to do things and could plan her future in greater detail, her days and night flew by.

  She fell into bed exhausted and resumed packing and sorting as the sun rose.

  The end of June and its gloomy days finally came. She said goodbye to her coworkers, took the ferry to Catalina, and for three days moped on the fogged-in beach in front of her hotel. Giving her dinner order to a waiter was about the only time she spoke.

  The island's socked-in weather matched her mood. Even strolling through the quaint shops along the picturesque harbor failed to brighten her gloomy outlook. She couldn't wait to start her new job.

  In the quiet evenings she pounded on her laptop, completing another sixty pages of her novel before she returned to San Diego, loaded her SUV, and set out on the first leg of her move.

  Ready or not, LA, here I come.

  *****

  "Oh-h," Carlo
groaned, trying his damndest to lift his right leg higher.

  "That's it. More," his determined therapist urged.

  "There," he said between gritted teeth, panting like an overheated dog.

  He'd had some good days, but far too many bad ones. This session was going well. He'd quickly progressed from wheelchair to walker, and then to a cane.

  His right leg had healed quickly and for the most part, without pain. The bullet that pierced his left calf, leaving a small entrance wound had ricocheted off bone and plowed a path through muscle before stopping. The injury had required extensive surgery the day of the shooting to remove the bullet and repair the damage.

  For the first time in memory, when the nurses released his legs from traction he'd cried.

  His therapy sessions became lessons in perseverance and teeth grinding, but now even those were coming to an end.

  The therapist promised tomorrow would be his last day in her torture chamber.

  Too bad. She was sweet, gentle, and available. She'd let him know on his first day of therapy. The two of them had shared some painful moments, and many poignant ones he didn't care to revisit.

  Now his worst fear was nighttime leg cramps, which hurt like hell.

  I'd sooner wear full body armor than risk being shot again.

  He'd lost two full months of his life, a life that had nearly ended on those hotel stairs.

  Allison had—

  Don't.

  Remembering the way her eyes danced when she teased him about being an alpha male hurt more than any cramp.

  Thank God she can't see me now.

  Hospitals and nursing home employees were experts at finding ways to castrate a man without ever laying a hand on him.

  At least I won't have to sit at home and feel sorry for myself for the last month of my rehab.

  He had it all planned, and couldn't wait to start jogging again. Slow at first, of necessity, but he needed to regain the weight he'd lost and strengthen his legs so he could pass the required physical and return to work.

  Internal Affairs harbored doubts about his mental stability and remained the last hurdle he had to clear before being allowed to return to work.

  Getting anything past them was next to impossible, he'd learned.

  For now, he had too much time on his hands, giving him way too much time to relive the moments leading up to his fateful encounter with Ram.

  Haunted by unanswerable questions, he again went over his actions on the day of the shooting.

  Could I have gotten off a shot sooner without endangering Allison?

  Why hadn't he tried to distract the shooter long enough to nail the perp and not Allison?

  I wanted to quickly end the confrontation, but withheld fire to assure Allison's safety.

  IA believes his emotional ties to Allison nearly got him killed.

  The perp got off three shots.

  Carlo's lone shot had gone wild as his legs went out from under him.

  To my knowledge that was the first shot fired at a perp I ever had go wild, a thought that didn't ease his conscience one bit.

  Had he let his relationship with Allison put her even further at risk?

  IA thought he had.

  He hadn't revealed the depths of his feelings for the feisty reporter, but the team from IA had apparently guessed.

  Carlo sighed.

  These would-a, could-a, should-a thoughts are eating me alive.

  He didn't dare come clean and let Internal Affairs know what was going on in his head.

  After tomorrow he'd be cleared to further exhaust his weary body by going for a long, slow jog, which hopefully would end his sleepless nights and appease Internal Affairs.

  Could Allison find it in her heart to forgive me?

  Together, we'd found something so good, so right.

  Then, like a fool, he'd sent her away, never realizing until she walked out of his hospital room that he wanted her by his side permanently.

  Now he spent his days longing for the gentle touch of her hand on his and his nights wondering how to fix the mess he'd made of their lives.

  I was wrong.

  Wrong to force her out of my life, a life not worth living without seeing Allison's taunting smile.

  She had known how to push all his buttons in ways no other woman had ever dared.

  Buttons he now longed to have Allison push.

  She'd made him feel alive, not like some LAPD robo-cop with tunnel vision.

  Without warning Allison's anger would explode and she'd shred his tough hide with her sharp tongue. Just one of the many things he missed about her, and one he'd never let on he enjoyed.

  During the lonely days of his lengthy recovery he'd missed those sudden outbursts with a longing he couldn't staunch.

  He needed Allison's thorough tongue-lashing the way he needed to draw his next breath.

  Had her brother taught her to give back as good as she got?

  I should look him up and thank him.

  And Allison?

  I owe her a lot more than thanks, starting with a heartfelt apology.

  I can't believe I tried to shift my guilt to her.

  Wonder who she's sharpening her tongue on now?

  Not Hanson, I hope.

  Would his friend tell him if he'd seen or spoken with Allison?

  Ouch.

  Damn that hurts.

  Would this therapy session never end so he could still these troublesome thoughts?

  *****

  Allison's first week on the job proved uneventful. She'd encountered the usual petty jealousies TV personalities fed upon, refused a dozen invitations to go out for drinks or dinner, and one blatant proposal of marriage she'd politely rejected. She intended to keep to herself until she became more familiar with her coworkers and their inevitable cliques and quirks.

  An extremely pregnant Sheryl introduced Allison to Sheryl's reliable snitches out on the street, told her how best to proceed when her cameraman came to work hung over and grouchy. She'd also told Allison how to approach the station manager on a slow-news day with an idea for a human interest story: let him think the idea was his.

  She and Sheryl worked well together, but at the start of Allison's second week at the station Sheryl's doctor ordered complete bed rest for the expectant mom. The staff gave her a hurried baby shower on Monday afternoon instead of Friday morning as planned, and Sheryl cheerfully waved goodbye to the local crime scene, looking more than ready to start her new career.

  Her emotions were mixed about being left alone to cover the LA crime scene with only one week of training, Allison thought as her grouchy cameraman drove to the scene of a jewelry heist in Beverly Hills.

  "...The housekeeper's ex-boyfriend is a person of interest in this crime," she reported later on the evening news.

  *****

  Across town, Oscar Hanson couldn't believe his eyes.

  What do you know? Allison Marble is covering the local news.

  Wonder if Carlo saw this?

  The Captain reported he was awaiting clearance by Internal Affairs to resume work. The few times Oscar had visited him, Carlo hadn't been himself.

  Oscar's futile attempts to cheer his friend had made things worse, so he had stayed away from him these past weeks.

  Should I call him? Let Carlo know Allison is reporting crime for Cable News? Or let him find out for himself?

  With Carlo around, Allison hadn't given me the time of day.

  Had that changed?

  If Carlo doesn't mention Allison when he returns to work, maybe I'll ask her out.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Two weeks later Internal Affairs cleared Carlo for work with the admonition to "Learn to forgive yourself. No one can be a superhero all the time."

  Recalling the psychologist's words at the end of his shift on his first day back, Carlo slammed his office door as he headed out.

  What does the prick know about guilt?

  He'd probably never been shot at in his life
.

  Lost in thought, he turned away from his door and almost crashed into the Captain.

  "Whoa."

  "Sorry," Carlo said. "My mind was on something else."

  The Captain eyed him intently. "Something you'd care to share?"

  "No, Sir. Did you want to see me?"

  "How was your day?"

  Carlo grimaced. "How do you think? Everyone treats me like I might break. You've yet to give me a case I can sink my teeth in. You know how I hate paperwork. I was bored out of my skull."

  "Well, what did you expect? This is your first day back."

  "I expected my desk to be littered with new cases. Not paperwork."

  "Give it time, Carlo. All the cases we opened in your absence have been assigned to other members of the team. If one of those team leaders needs help, I'm sure you'll be asked. Just don't bite their heads off, too."

  Carlo scowled. "So until someone does ask, you expect me to sit here and do nothing?"

  "No. I've been asked to speak on the continuing drug problem at the Downtown Rotary Club meeting tomorrow. Why don't you go with me?"

  "No, but thanks. I'm more of a doer than a sitter."

  "Sitting might do you some good."

  "That's all I've done for three months. I don't want to compile statistics on drug addiction, I want to eliminate the source. You know that."

  "Patience, Carlo. Rome wasn't built in a day. Any plans for the evening?"

  "A late night jog through my neighborhood. Why?"

  "I don't want you sitting home alone, brooding, that's all."

  "Not a chance. I'm working on strengthening my legs."

  "Take it easy and, and I'll see you tomorrow. Maybe another meth lab will blow up and I can drop the case in your lap."

  "We can hope."

  *****

  Allison's new job required so much of her time she was yet to find a free afternoon to check out possible places to move. Before going to bed on Wednesday night she wrote a check to cover another month's rent for her apartment in San Diego, addressed the envelope for mailing, and fell asleep the minute her head hit the pillow.

  When the alarm woke her at five a.m. she groaned, not yet ready to roll out of bed, but knowing she had to. Everything in LA moved faster, even the hands of her clock.