Icy Betrayal (12 page)

TWENTY-TWO

“
S
ergeant Rainey, Captain McCallister calling. What, if anything, is happening with our wiretap operation? I need some good news.”

“I wish I had some good news for you. Lennox is busy selling ice. Lisa Sullivan got a reminder from her dentist that she’s due for her annual cleaning, otherwise there’s zip on her. Sorry, I know it’s not what you’re after, Captain.”

“No kidding,” Mick said. The wiretap order was only good for another three days. “Well, I need something, Brett, and I need it soon. I don’t want this case to slip away.”

“I feel your pain, Captain, but I can only tell you what they say. I can’t make ‘em say it, you know? If it was up to me, I’d call them both myself for you.”

“Yeah, I know. This one’s a pain in my ass.”

“If anything breaks, you’ll be the first one I call, day or night.”

“All right, Brett, thanks. And tell your guys I really appreciate the efforts with this one. I know it’s like watching paint drying down there. What you guys do for these taps would send me off the deep end.”

“Will do, Cap.”

Mick dialed Mark Archer in RCSO Media Relations.

“Hey Mark, it’s Mick. Can you come over to my office?’

“Sure, I can be there in ten.”

Lieutenant Archer was the spokesperson for the department and liason to the media. Essentially, Archer was the ‘front man’ for the RCSO. He was the face and the voice of the department, maybe more so than the sheriff himself. The rule of thumb in law enforcement was if there was good news, the sheriff did the interviews. If it was bad news, which was more often the case, it would be Archer.

It was a thankless job, but Archer managed to do it without making many enemies. He had been the RCSO spokesperson for more than a decade and had handled reporters on cases ranging from the routine to the downright sensational. Mick knew Archer had solid relationships with reporters from Colorado Springs to Denver.

One of the perks of the spokesperson position was reporting directly to the sheriff. Archer didn’t have to go through an undersheriff or captain; if he needed something he simply walked into Connelly’s office and asked for it. His number one rule was to keep the sheriff personally informed. He never wanted Connelly to open the newspaper or turn on the TV and see something about the RCSO that he didn’t already know. Connelly hated surprises and Archer did his best to make sure there weren’t any.

Archer was well aware Sheriff Connelly was about to retire. He also knew Mick McCallister was on the short list of candidates with a decent chance of being elected.

The captain had also called Mia to the office. She arrived before Archer and immediately sensed his frustration.

“Have a seat, Mia.”

“Uh oh.”

“I just spoke with Brett Rainey in ESU.”

“And?”

“Nothing. Beyond nothing, and we’re seven days into this tap. Three days left and then we’re out of time.”

Mark Archer knocked as he stuck his head in. “Captain? You rang?”

“Come on in, Mark. You know Investigator Serrano.”

“Sure, hey, Mia.”

“Hi, Mark. How’s the training going?” she asked. Mark Archer was a triathlete. Tall and lanky, he spent evenings and weekends training and it showed. His dark hair and good looks made him appear far younger than his fifty-two years.

“All good, thanks.”

Mick jumped in. “Mark, do you remember a fatal TC we had a few weeks back—out on Highway 46?”

“No, don’t think I did a press release on that one.”

“Have a seat, and you might want to take some notes. We thought initially that it was an accident, but the evidence points to something else, and we’re shifting gears.”

“Like what?” Archer asked, intrigued.

“Our victim was a 56-year-old guy named George Lombard, a Castle Springs resident and part owner of an ice company here in town. Initially, it appeared Mr. Lombard had been hunting and was struck and killed by a car traveling on a remote section of Highway 46. Inspector Serrano was the first investigator on scene. The deeper we dug, the more it began looking like a homicide—with insurance money as the motive. So now Keller and Serrano are running the investigation together.”

“What’s the policy worth?”

“Two million to his business partner,” Mia told him.

Mick continued as Archer took notes. “That business partner is a guy named Scott Lennox. Together they owned Lennox Ice Company. We think he orchestrated the accident for the insurance payout. The theory goes that Mr. Lennox, who is married, is having an affair with a young woman named Lisa Sullivan. The same Lisa Sullivan that reported she struck our victim on Highway 46.”

“Damn, the media will eat this one up,” Archer predicted.

“Like white on rice, but we’ve gotta make the case,” McCallister cautioned. “What we’ve done is set up a wiretap on both. If we can get them conspiring on tape and then break one or the other in interrogation, we’ll be good.”

“What can I do to help?”

“We’re seven days into a ten-day tap, and we’ve got zilch. No contact whatsoever. We’re running out of time and we need you to turn up the heat. They may be thinking they’re in the clear and are just waiting for the insurance check to land in the mailbox. What I’d like to do is get something in the paper—say we are re-opening the case following some new leads and we think this may not have been an accident. Something that will make them think their plan is unraveling. Something to put the fear of God into them.”

“So they read the article, freak out, one calls the other to make sure they have their bases covered. You snag them with the tap,” Archer said.

“That’s the plan. Investigator Serrano here will be happy to brief you in more detail. But we don’t have a lot of time, Mark. It’s already Friday—if possible we’d like to see it in the Sunday paper. Any later and our tap will be exhausted.”

“I can make it happen.”

“Outstanding. Thanks for the help, Mark.”

“I’ll send you my bill,” Archer teased. “I need to make some calls, but Mia, can we touch base before you leave tonight?”

“I’ll come by your office.”

“Perfect. Cap, I’ll call you when I know something,” Archer promised as he left the office.

“Sure hope it works,” Mia said. There was a lot riding on this.

“I got an idea,” Mick told her. “How about you and I steal away for a nice discreet dinner somewhere tomorrow night?”

“Wow. A big Saturday night date. Haven’t had one of those in a while. What do you have in mind, Mister?”

“Mia, we’re at work, it’s Captain Mister, if you don’t mind,” he teased. “I don’t know yet, let me think about it, and I’ll surprise you. Does that work?”

“Works for me.”

“Pick you up tomorrow at seven?”

“Sounds good. Meantime, I’m gonna pull my case file for Mark.”

Archer knew just where to start. The Front Range News-Press was the area’s primary newspaper and their website was the go-to regional news source online. He’d call his good friend Anita Sanchez, the paper’s top reporter.

Sanchez had been around the news business longer than Mark Archer had been at RCSO. They shared a solid professional relationship and had become good friends, a friendship that had paid dividends on both sides. Archer and the RCSO got a fair shake in the News-Press, and Sanchez sometimes got tipped early on the best stories coming out of the department, courtesy of Mark Archer.

Mia was able to provide Mark with all the relevant details of the case. From there, the two formulated the core story and ran it by the captain for approval. Once McCallister had signed off, Archer called Anita Sanchez and told her what he needed. In exchange for an exclusive story, Anita would make sure the story about the Lombard investigation would make the Sunday edition, above the fold.

TWENTY-THREE

M
ia spent the better part of twenty four hours trying to decide what to wear on her dinner date with Mick. The fact that he wanted to surprise her was romantic, but it complicated the fashion call. Ultimately, she selected a black mini dress she’d picked up at a Denver boutique a few months earlier for 70% off. It was a dress that screamed sexy, emphasizing all of her curves.

A few minutes after seven, the doorbell rang. Sasha went nuts, and Chuck answered the door. He welcomed Mick inside and offered him a drink.

“Only if you join me.”

“If you insist,” Chuck replied with a wink as he reached up for the bottle of high-end French vodka in the cupboard.

“Still a vodka drinker, I assume?” asked Chuck, holding out the bottle for Mick to see.

“Yep, or a good Pinot Noir when the mood strikes.”

“Well, let’s go with the clear stuff tonight,” Chuck suggested.

Just as Chuck poured a couple of healthy shots of vodka, Mia came in and gave Mick a kiss on the cheek.

“Easy with that stuff boys,” Mia teased.

“Wow, Mia. You look like a million bucks!”

“Thank you. You look quite handsome yourself.”

It was rare to see Mick out of uniform, and the tailored navy suit and light blue shirt made him look more like a New York bond trader than a sheriff’s captain.

“How ‘bout a small one for you, Mia?” her father offered.

“No, thanks, I’m fine. I need to keep my wits about me tonight. You never know what this guy has planned. Whatever it is, it’s a surprise. He wouldn’t tell me a thing.”

“I’ll take good care of her, Chuck, no need to wait up.”

“All right, you two have fun,” Chuck called out as they headed for the door. Mick had taken just a sip of his vodka. Chuck would make sure it didn’t go to waste.

Outside, Mick proudly opened the door to his new BMW X5.

“What’s this, McCallister? A new ride?”

“Yeah, just a little something I picked up this morning. It was time for something new. My old car had over 150,000 miles. Looks like I made the right call. You and that dress look perfect in it.”

“Very nice. Congratulations.”

“Thanks.”

“Okay, Mister, where are we heading?” asked Mia.

“You’ll see soon enough.”

“I’m guessing your place?”

“Nope, I’ve actually had painters over all day, and it was all I could do not to get high from the paint fumes. It really stinks.”

“You poor man.”

Mick navigated the I-25 on ramp and headed north.

“North huh? I guess that means Santa Fe is out,” joked Mia.

“Yes, good deduction, Investigator.”

Mia sat back and enjoyed the ride. Things were never strained with Mick, they fit perfectly, she thought. No need to fill every minute with conversation, they were just comfortable being together.

Thirty minutes later, Mick exited at 16th Street in downtown Denver.

“So we’re not going up to Cheyenne, either?” Mia teased. “Just where are you taking me?”

“You’ll see soon enough, young lady. Remember, patience is a virtue.”

“Yeah, I hate that.”

Mick reached over and took Mia’s hand. Tonight was special for both of them. Mia squeezed his long fingers. “I’m glad you drive an automatic.”

A few quick turns and Mick was pulling into the parking structure of a forty-story, high-end condominium complex adjacent to Denver’s 16th Street Mall.

“Oh my God, you bought me a place!”

Mick chuckled again. “Man, you are full of yourself tonight.”

“Just in a good mood, that’s all. There’s no place I’d rather be, ya know?”

Mick quickly found a parking space and they headed to the elevator.

“You’re killing me, McCallister. Where the heck are you taking me?”

“Almost there.”

Mick pushed the button for the fortieth floor. Within seconds the doors opened and the two stepped into a long hallway.

“This way,” Mick said, leading. When they came to a door marked 4007, Mick stopped and reached into his pocket for a key.

“What’s going on, McCallister?” Mia wondered out loud. Mick ignored her, opened the door and they stepped inside. It was the most beautiful place she had ever seen.

“Oh my Lord,” Mia said as she looked quickly around the expansive open floor plan.

She walked over to the living room and looked out the floor-to-ceiling window. The view was spectacular; the lights of the greater Denver area twinkled everywhere she looked. She turned to Mick, “This place is unbelievable, but what are we doing here?”

“Having dinner.”

“Um, does the owner of this place know we’re here? Or are we breaking and entering?”

“It’s my brother’s condo. He’s out of town for the weekend, and he asked me if I’d check on the place for him. So, that’s what we’re doing—checking on the place for him.”

Mia remembered that Mick had a younger brother, but they’d never met.

“If I may ask… What does your brother do for a living? Rob banks?”

Mick smiled. “Close. He’s an investment banker. Hit it big a few years ago and bought this place. Paid almost $3 million for it, but it comes with pool privileges. At least that’s what he always tells me when I give him a hard time about it.”

“The place is incredible. I can’t get over the view.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty spectacular. Let me make you a drink, and I’ll show you the rest of the place.”

Mia nodded at Mick and looked back at the view from the living room window.

“You can see Coors Field. It’s right there, off to the left.”

“During the summer, Steven will just walk the five blocks and go to a lot of the games. Although, you can see some of the action on the field from the window.”

“Wow, what a life.”

“Yeah, he’s really done well for himself. I’m proud of him,” Mick said without a hint of jealousy in his voice.

“Where is he this weekend?”

“He and his wife, Jennie, are skiing up at Aspen.”

“Of course… Where else could they be?” Mia chuckled.

Mick came over to Mia at the window and handed her a glass of chardonnay. Mick was sticking with vodka.

“So we’ve checked on the place, made sure there are no burglars or mass murderers here, so where to next?”

The doorbell rang. “Uh oh, are we expecting company?”

Mick didn’t say anything but turned to answer the door as Mia stayed by the window, enjoying the view. Moments later, a man with a large, wheeled cooler and a satchel arrived.

“Mia, I’d like you to meet Chef Andre. He’ll be making us dinner this evening.”

“Hello, nice to meet you, Andre.”

“The pleasure is all mine.”

Andre nodded at the two of them and disappeared into the kitchen.

Mia looked at Mick. “You are full of surprises tonight.”

“This guy makes a fruit cocktail that you won’t believe,” Mick teased.

“I’ll take that, a glass of chardonnay, this view, and you—and I’ll never need another thing as long as I live.”

Mick smiled, leaned in, and kissed Mia gently on the lips.

“I can deliver all of the above—with the exception of the view, of course.”

“I can live with that.”

They kissed again. Andre walked in and interrupted the moment.

“Oh, my apologies. I was just going to ask you about the time frame for dinner. When would you like things to be ready?”

“An hour or so would work well. That is, if that works for you, Mia.”

“That would be perfect, thanks.”

“Very well, then. Dinner will be served at nine o’clock. Again, my apologies for the intrusion.”

“Quite all right, Andre. No worries.”

He turned back to Mia. “Let me give you the rest of the tour.”

Mick walked her through the condo. The rest of it was just as spectacular as the living room. Views of the city from all three bedrooms, marble throughout the bathrooms, a fully equipped workout room—the place had everything.

Mick and Mia spent the time before dinner enjoying the view and talking about anything and everything. This was not an evening for a lot of RCSO talk; this night was theirs.

The hour went by quickly, and at nine o’clock Andre came into the living room and announced that dinner was served. The dinner table was set up close to the window, offering a different view than the vantage point from the living room. The view was just as amazing but looked due west.

The food was both beautifully presented and delicious. The entrée was Mia’s favorite—lightly grilled scallops and mushroom risotto.

“Oh my God, Mick. These scallops just melt in your mouth.”

“Glad you like them.”

“Thanks for remembering they are my favorite.”

“How could I forget? You order them everywhere we go!”

They both laughed and enjoyed the rest of dinner. It was nearly eleven when Andre came into the living room where Mick and Mia were enjoying a cognac.

“I just wanted to let you know that everything is finished up in the kitchen, and if there is nothing else, I will be on my way.”

“I think we’re fine, Andre. Outstanding job with dinner,” Mick replied.

“Yes, it was fantastic,” added Mia.

“It was my pleasure. I will let myself out. Have a wonderful evening.”

They enjoyed another cognac and relaxed on the big sofa. The conversation flowed effortlessly from the beautiful condo to travel. As the night grew long, Mick got focused. “I think we should talk about us.”

Mia took the lead, “It’s been wonderful being with you again these past few weeks. I didn’t realize how much I missed you, and I feel like the connection between us is as strong as ever. I hope you feel the same. I really believe we have a future together, and I think you believe that, too.”

“Absolutely,” Mick said, holding her tightly.

“I think we belong together, Mick, but I don’t want to do anything that could jeopardize your future with the department. I think you’re going to be a great sheriff, and the last thing I want is to put you in the position of having to publicly explain your relationship with a subordinate. It could damage your campaign and I just can’t have that.”

“Then I won’t run,” Mick said firmly. “It’s not worth it. You’re more important than the job.”

Mia felt her limbs go weak. It took a few moments to take it all in. She shifted her position on the sofa, leaned in, and kissed him. A kiss that told Mick exactly how she felt. It was long, deep, and intimate.

She stopped and held his face in her hands. “I want you to know I feel the same way. You’re more important than any job, too. But if we’re going to be together, we need to do what’s right for both of us. I want you to run. I want you to win. I know there’s a way we can work this out.”

“Mia, I’m perfectly happy where I am.”

“You’re running, McCallister, and that’s all there is to it. We’ll talk about the details later.”

They kissed.

“Now let’s get out of this dump and go back to my place.”