Chapter 9

Glancing between Rhy and Isaiah, Raelyn could tell her boss was about to accuse Isaiah of holding out on them. And shockingly, she wanted to jump to his defense.

"Of course, there were no prints on the weapon," she said, breaking the tense silence. "I would have been surprised if there had been."

"Where is Pinky?" Rhy asked bluntly. "And what is his real name?"

"I don't know." Isaiah's chin lifted. "I would never lie to you, Raelyn, or Grayson. I only know the fifteen-year-old as Pinky, and I don't know where he is. I do my best to befriend these kids, to provide a decent male role model. But that doesn't mean I know everything about them."

"And would you tell us if he contacted you?" Rhy pressed.

"Yes." Isaiah answered without hesitation. Then he added, "It's true that I don't want Pinky to end up in the system. I don't think jail is the place for him. But I think it would be important to get his side of the story."

"You mean the story about what happened outside the church," Raelyn said with a frown.

"We know most of that already," Rhy pointed out. "The statements from the various officers who responded to the scene are consistent. We have some general descriptions of the teens involved, but many ran off."

Including the four who'd darted inside the church, she thought with a sigh. "What about the ones who were injured and arrested?"

Rhy's expression was pained. "Three of them are still in the hospital being treated for gunshot wounds. A fourth died of complications in the hospital." At her alarmed expression, he hastened to reassure her, "Not the one you hit. He's still in the hospital, too, and according to Bax Scala, the ADA in charge of the case, we can't interview him or the others while they're medicated."

"That didn't stop the cops from questioning me ten years ago," Isaiah said.

Rhy arched a brow. "It should have." He sighed, then continued. "There's one teenager who suffered minor injuries, but he's refusing to answer more questions. His name is Max Campbell, and all we have is his initial statement, which basically accused the officers of firing their weapons first."

"Yeah, but that's only because the kids were armed," she said with exasperation. "If you draw a weapon on an officer, they're going to shoot."

"I know that," Rhy said mildly. "But Max claims no one drew a weapon until the first officer fired at them, killing the kid named Omar Talbert. They were taken aback by that and began firing in return. That's when everything went downhill." Rhy shook his head. "It's a mess. I feel bad for the Third Precinct, they're taking a lot of heat from the mayor and governor regarding the number of dead teenagers."

"I failed," Isaiah whispered. "I should have gone out to break up the drug deal myself, rather than calling the police."

"No." She put a hand on his arm. "They wouldn't have stopped the drug deal for you, Isaiah. Maybe they'd have moved to a new location, but they wouldn't have stopped."

He seemed to consider that for a moment. "Maybe not. But I didn't help the situation."

When they'd first met, she'd been so angry with him. She'd slapped handcuffs around his wrists, fully committed to hauling him down to book him for interfering in a criminal investigation. Now that she'd gotten to know him, she realized how much he truly cared about the people in his community. Especially the younger members.

The image of Pinky's resigned expression flashed in her mind. You can't help me. No one can.

What had Pinky done? Thinking back, he and the kids he'd been with had been off to the side when she'd come around the corner of the warehouse. They'd looked at her, then had taken off to disappear into the church. That made it highly unlikely that Pinky had been the one to shoot the cop.

Yet he'd had the Glock that killed Officer Dillon Colbert. Or so she believed. Who else but Pinky would have placed the weapon on the church altar? She doubted any of the other kids would have done that.

A big piece of the puzzle was missing, and she had no idea where to find it. She glanced at Isaiah. "Would Max Campbell talk to you?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. I'm not sure he attended any of my services so he may not know who I am."

"That's a good idea," Rhy said, his gaze filled with anticipation. "I'll call his lawyer, see if they'll agree to a meeting."

Isaiah nodded, and she knew he had doubts about the plan. But at this point, they needed to try everything. She turned to Rhy. "Hugo Morrison was taken to Trinity Medical Center. I'm hoping you can get an update on his condition in a few hours."

"I'll do my best." Rhy sighed. "I've been granted permission to pay for a hotel for you two. I have booked a suite at the City Central Hotel downtown by the courthouse under my name. If Max's lawyer agrees to a meeting, you'll be close by."

"That's fine." She frowned, exchanging a glance with Grayson. "I'm surprised Assistant Chief Michaels agreed to pay for that."

"I twisted his arm. Besides, Isaiah is on good terms with Mayor Critten, remember?" Rhy lifted his hands. "I think the City Central is better than using the American Lodge. We've caused enough damage to Gary's place over the past eighteen months. I don't want to take the risk of adding more."

"That's fine." She didn't hold out much hope that Max's lawyer would agree to a meeting. Why would he? The kid was facing enough felony charges to put him in jail for the rest of his life.

A wave of sadness hit hard. Yes, everyone had choices. She and Isaiah had both managed to drag themselves out of difficult situations. But it wasn't easy, and she was well aware that if Kenny had succeeded in his attempt to force himself on her, things may have turned out much differently.

She shied away from that thought. There was no point in rehashing the past. She was a cop and proud of her work within the tactical team. She felt bad about shooting a kid, but he had fired at her first. The problem with these kids is that they didn't have firearm training like cops did. They got their hands on a weapon and assumed that they could fire it accurately.

Thankfully, at least for her, that wasn't the case.

"I'll make sure you can be there when they interview Morrison," Rhy said, breaking into her thoughts. "But that won't be for days yet."

If Morrison survives. Rhy didn't have to say the words they were both thinking.

"What would you like me to do?" Grayson asked.

"I'm hoping you'll continue following up on leads related to Pinky and the other kids," Rhy said. "I think Raelyn can handle watching over Isaiah for now."

She didn't like being relegated to babysitter. Granted, she'd fired her service weapon in the line of duty twice now, but that didn't mean she was content to sit this out. "There must be something I can do to help." The idea of being stuck inside a hotel suite with Isaiah for hours on end made her twitchy. She was already starting to care about him, more than she'd have thought possible.

"What about the mug shots?" Isaiah said.

She turned to him. "What about them?"

"I was able to identify Hugo Morrison, maybe there are others that I'll recognize too." He managed a grim smile. "It can't hurt. And I would like to put this entire incident to rest as much as you do."

"He has a point," Rhy agreed. "We need to work every angle possible."

"That's fine with me." She hesitated, then added, "Will you provide one of the department computers for us to use at the hotel? And ask Gabe to give us access to the database?"

"Of course. Whatever you need." His cell phone rang, and he sighed. "I need to take this. It's Captain Sanchez of the third district. I'm sure I'm going to get an earful about why you and Grayson were on their turf in plain clothes."

"Better you than me," she said. Then she walked over to the closest empty desk to grab a laptop computer. "Come on, we should head to the hotel."

"I'll talk to Gabe Melrose while Rhy's on the phone," Grayson said. "Call if you need anything."

"Thanks. We will." She still had the keys to the Jeep, so she gave Grayson a nod before making her way to the rear door, the laptop computer tucked under her arm. When she reached the door, though, she turned and handed the device to Isaiah. "Hold this." Then she removed her backup piece from her ankle holster and held it ready before stepping outside.

A quick scan of the parking lot revealed nothing alarming. Still, the threat against Isaiah was real, and she wasn't going to take any chances.

Moving quickly, she led the way to the Jeep. Isaiah followed, sliding into the passenger seat without delay. He set the laptop on the floor, then buckled in.

She drove through several side streets before heading for the interstate, keeping an eye on the rearview to make sure they weren't followed as the Jeep may have been compromised by the guy who waited in the car for them to drive by.

It wasn't likely the drug dealers on the north side had the ability to track an undercover police vehicle. Then again, she wasn't taking any chances.

Her stomach rumbled with hunger, loud enough that Isaiah smiled. "I'm hungry too," he said. "Rosie's breakfast was amazing, but it was also hours ago."

Hours that seemed like eons. A glance at the clock indicated it was going on three thirty in the afternoon. "Okay, we'll order room service once we get to the hotel." She could have stopped along the way, but since Assistant Chief Michaels had agreed to foot the bill, she figured he could spring for a late lunch or early dinner.

"Sounds good." Isaiah stared out the window for a long moment, seeming lost in thought. "I hope going through the mug shots will provide more information related to all of this."

"Me too." She remembered what he'd said about the guy he'd worked with ten years ago, a drug dealer named Donte Wicks, and made a note to double-check that he was still in jail. It didn't seem logical that Donte would try to kill Isaiah ten years later, but if he'd recently gotten out of jail, then revenge might be a viable motive.

They arrived at the City Central Hotel a few minutes later. Isaiah carried the laptop, so both of her hands could be free. She didn't see anything alarming, though, and they were soon settled in their suite.

"Nice place," Isaiah said as he set the laptop on the small table. "I've never stayed in a hotel this nice."

"I'm with you on that one." She knew where he was coming from. Hotels were a luxury that were far out of reach for those growing up in poverty. "The DA's office tends to use this hotel for witnesses who have to testify at trial." She gestured to the window. "The courthouse is within walking distance."

"Now that's a building I'm familiar with," Isaiah said with a smile. "I went straight from the hospital to the house of corrections but had several court hearings after that."

She wanted to ask more about his incarceration, but her stomach growled again, so she grabbed the menu instead. "I'll go with the wrap. What would you like?"

"The hamburger looks good." Isaiah gestured to one of the rooms. "I need to wash up first."

She nodded and reached for the phone. After placing their order, she made quick use of the bathroom in her room as well. Surprisingly, she didn't look too awful, considering everything that had transpired that morning.

Not that her looks mattered one way or the other. Isaiah was not the man for her, no matter how nice, handsome, and caring he was. They were opposites in every way.

Shaking off the thought, she returned to the main living area. Isaiah was already there, waiting for her. "I can't log into this device."

"I know." She went over to use her police credentials to access the system. "Give me a minute to pull up the mug shots."

Gabe Melrose had given them the access she'd requested. She turned the device so Isaiah could begin going through them. "Let me know if you find anything."

"I will." He began scrolling through the photographs, his attention focused on the screen.

Swallowing hard, she tore her gaze from his profile and used her phone to see what she could find using a plain, ordinary internet search. It wasn't easy to concentrate, though. For whatever reason, she was far too aware of Isaiah.

The cop and the preacher, she thought with a silent sigh. As if that could ever work.

Isaiah scrolledthrough one mug shot after another. He recognized two individuals who spent time in the drug rehab facility where he offered support as a counselor. He hadn't been an addict, but he'd done his best to use his experience of being shot and being saved by God to coach the residents in turning their lives around. Unfortunately, so many of their residents relapsed that he'd found the experience more frustrating and emotionally draining over time. He didn't think he was helping as much as he wanted to.

That was when he'd gone the route of becoming a pastor. God had saved him for a reason, and he was trying to follow God's plan. He'd thought that being a pastor would enable him to reach out to more of the people who lived around him, not just the addicts, but those who were lost, needed guidance, or who came from abusive situations, like Pinky.

But so far, he hadn't been nearly as successful as he'd hoped. Despite how he continued to pray to God for guidance.

His failure weighed heavily on his shoulders.

The soft knock on the door nearly had him jumping out of his skin. He rose to his feet, but Raelyn beat him to it, placing her eye against peephole first, then opening the door to allow the server to bring in their tray.

"Thank you," Raelyn said, providing a tip.

"Sure." The server glanced nervously at the weapon she'd left on the table.

"I'm a cop," Raelyn quickly explained. She dug in her pocket for her badge. The guy visibly relaxed.

"Okay. Please set the tray outside your door when you're finished."

Isaiah glanced at her. "You should probably put the gun back in your ankle holster."

She narrowed her gaze. "I left it out so it would be close at hand if I needed it." She gestured to the tray. "Let's eat."

Isaiah almost pressed the issue but decided that would be futile. His aversion to guns had a lot to do with being shot at close range, but he understood her need to defend herself. And him. He turned to the table and pushed the computer aside to make room for their plates. Then he took his seat and held out his hand.

After a brief hesitation, she took it. Her fingers were slender and a little cold. He held her hand gently, resisting the powerful urge to pull her into his arms.

When she glanced at him questioningly, he realized she was waiting for him to say grace. "Dear Lord Jesus, we thank You for keeping us safe in Your care today. Please continue to guide us to the truth so that those around us can be safe, especially the children in Your care. Amen."

"Amen." She gave his hand a brief squeeze. "Thanks, Isaiah. I have to admit, it does seem like God is watching over us. Well, more you than me," she added.

"Not just me," he hastened to correct her. "God is there for you, Raelyn, whenever you decide to seek Him."

She tugged her hand away to pick up her wrap. "Thanks, but I'm not sure about that."

"I am." He let her go and dug into his own meal. He wished there was a way to convince her, but he wouldn't push. She would need to make the decision for herself. He knew that if he hadn't been shot that day by Petey Dobbs and had seen the light, he wouldn't believe in God either.

He sent up another prayer that God would give Raelyn a sign of His presence, then he continued eating. He suspected all she needed was a gentle nudge.

They ate in silence for a moment. "I think that whatever happened to you ten years ago is connected to what is happening now," she said. "Are you sure you don't remember anything?"

He remembered the important part, seeing the light and hearing his grandmother's voice calling him. "I was selling dope to a rich kid named Petey Dobbs. His dad was constantly giving him money, and he used it to buy drugs. But for some reason, Daddy stopped giving him cash. When I refused to issue an IOU, he pulled a gun and shot me." He rubbed the scar on his chest. "I thought I was going to die, but then I saw a bright-white light that I know was heaven. I didn't get to go to the light the way I wanted to." He glanced at her, expecting her to scoff at the idea. Her eyes widened a bit, so he continued, "The next thing I remember was waking up in the hospital. I was awash in pain and couldn't move because the police had cuffed me to the bed."

"That must have been terrifying," she murmured.

"Yes and no," he admitted. "God wanted me to live for a reason. But I will admit, the pain of undergoing chest surgery and the subsequent recovery was not fun."

"You mentioned earlier that the cops didn't wait for you to be fully recovered before they interviewed you."

"Yeah, I remember two cops asking me questions when I could barely talk." He shook his head. "I believe they read me my rights, but I don't really remember what I told them." He shrugged. "I didn't know much, other than Petey shot me."

"But you must have mentioned your supplier and maybe even the Chief," she said thoughtfully. "I wonder if there was a doctor or nurse nearby when they spoke to you."

"I believe there was a doctor at the bedside," he said. "I remember the long white lab coat. But really, it doesn't matter if I did mention Petey Dobbs, Donte Wicks, or even the Chief. I didn't know the real name of the guy who was in charge of the drug pipeline. I was nothing more than a low-level drug dealer." It still pained him to admit how foolish he'd been.

"We need to make sure Donte Wicks is still in jail." She munched a fry. "And I wonder who those cops were. I'll see if I can get a copy of your arrest report."

"Whatever you think is best." He wasn't sure that learning the names of the cops who'd questioned him would help, but Donte Wicks could be holding a grudge against him.

Raelyn pulled the computer closer. She stuck a fry in her mouth, then did a simple case search on Donte Wicks. There were a few of them in the system, but he knew Donte was only a few years older than he was.

"This one." He pointed at the screen.

She clicked on the case to see that Donte Wicks had been sentenced to ten years in prison for attempted murder. He hadn't paid much attention before, but now he noticed that the arrest was five weeks after he'd been shot.

"I'm sure he's still doing time." He straightened and took another bite of his burger. "I highly doubt Donte was nice enough during his incarceration to earn an early release for good behavior."

"Yeah, but I think the time frame is close enough that he might be up for parole regardless. The court records aren't always as up to date as we'd like." She pulled out her cell phone to make a call. "I'll have Gabe Melrose dig into that possibility."

"Okay." He finished his burger and fries while she made the call to her tech guy. All this talk of prison made him extra grateful for the meal before him. Prison food was awful, bland, and tasteless. Sometimes unrecognizable to the point where he'd suspected the mystery meat had been left out overnight on purpose to make them suffer.

That was the main reason he'd learned how to cook.

His thoughts must have been reflected on his face because Raelyn surprised him by resting her hand on his arm. "I'm sure that was a terrible time for you."

"Yeah." He didn't like talking about it. There was nothing more terrifying than being targeted by a group of inmates. Which he had been on several occasions. He shied away from that thought.

"You mentioned selling drugs because you needed money." She seemed anxious to understand.

"Yes. As I mentioned, my ma was sick and lost her job. We were one step away from being out on the street." He turned to meet her amber gaze. "I know it was stupid to take the easy way out, but at eighteen, it seemed the simple solution."

"I can imagine." She finished the last of her fries and pushed her plate away. "Although I get the impression your mother wouldn't have approved."

He winced because she was right. "No, she wouldn't have. I lied and told her I got a great job. She was too sick and weak to press for details."

She nodded thoughtfully at that. "Maybe she didn't want to know."

"Maybe she didn't," he agreed. He finished his food, too, and then stood to place their dirty dishes on the tray. "Although I'm sure she learned the truth after I was shot."

"Did you get to see her in the hospital?" she asked.

"Nope. Prisoners don't get visiting privileges. They told me I had to wait until I was discharged and sent to the house of corrections." That rule had rankled the most. It seemed cruel and inhumane, although one of the nurses had told him it was a safety risk because some prisoner patients in the past had used family members to get busted out of the hospital. "The worst part was learning that my ma died when I was incarcerated. She'd been sick before and relapsed after I was shot."

She sucked in a harsh breath. "Oh, Isaiah. I'm so sorry."

"Yeah, me too." He managed a weak smile. "I held a lot of anger in my heart over that. The jail pastor helped me work through it, but even now, I still miss her."

She stood and wrapped her arm around his waist. "At least you know your mother loved you. That's the most important thing of all."

He hugged her as the words registered. "Are you saying you didn't have that?"

"Not even close." Her tone was light, but he could see the dark anguish in her gaze. "My mother lied to the police to protect her boyfriend, Kenny, who tried to sexually assault me." She rested her head on his shoulder. "That was when I understood she cared more about him than me. When the state pulled me out of there, I think she was glad to be rid of me."

Dear Lord Jesus, he thought, pulling her close. What mother would do such a thing? Then again, Pinky's father had slammed a hammer down on a young boy's hand to punish him.

He knew better than most that people could be monsters.

"I don't know what to say," he whispered. "Other than I believe God spared you from being assaulted. And I'm in awe of how you changed your life for the better."

She nodded, still leaning her head against his chest. He didn't mind. He wanted nothing more than to hold her close.

And to kiss her.

As if sensing the sudden tension that coursed through him, she moved closer and tipped her head back. He stared at her mouth, imagining how soft and sweet it would be. But he didn't dare make a move, unwilling to make her feel uncomfortable.

"Raelyn." His voice came out a strangled whisper.

She searched his gaze, then smiled. His heart squeezed as she lifted up onto her tiptoes to kiss him.

That was all the encouragement he needed. He gathered her close, reveling in their embrace. He eagerly deepened their kiss, the taste of her going straight to his head, making him dizzy. He wanted her. Needed her. Maybe even loved her.

Despite their differences, he was falling for Raelyn in a big way.