CHAPTER FIVE
Cole’s phone rang, waking him from a deep sleep. He cracked one eye open and checked caller ID—a department number.
“Robinson,” he grumbled.
“Hey, man. It’s Flanigan.”
“Dude. LT must not have told you. I gotta take a bunch of PTO, so I’m gonna ride along during the week instead of on my weekend.”
“He told me,” Flanigan said. “But I thought you might want in on this one.”
“Go ahead.”
“Detective Adams was shot last night in Central Park. He was deep undercover with the Fire Vipers and, among other things, trying to identify who killed Lambert. He musta got made. They put two in his chest. DOA at the scene.”
Cole sat up straight. Lambert was Cole’s old partner. He’d made detective, only to be shot and killed on his first assignment. “I’m on my way. Just tell me where.”
“Thought it might be personal,” Flanigan said. “I’ll text you the directions and meet you there. I’ll bring the coffee.”
Cole hung up and scrubbed his hands over his face. Two years. For two years, they’d been trying to catch the bastard that killed his friend. And now, another good cop who’d been working with the gang was dead. The coincidence couldn’t be ignored. This was why Cole was so desperate to make detective. Someone needed to pay.
Within ten minutes, he was dressed and on his way. Another twenty, and he was at the park. He flashed his badge at the patrolman guarding the area and ducked under the yellow crime scene tape. Flanigan and his partner, Detective Espinoza, stood by a folding table they were using as a makeshift HQ.
“What happened?” Cole asked, taking the coffee Flanigan offered. “Thanks.”
“Took two at almost point-blank range. Jogger found him this morning, but it went down sometime last night. We’re canvassing the area now.”
Cole nodded. “Point me in a direction.”
He got his marching orders and set off. Carefully, he searched the ground near the trees, thinking this was pointless, but knowing he was merely a grunt for the real detectives. A faint noise made him stop and listen. Was that a cough?
“Anybody here?” he asked to the empty area.
“Up here,” a raspy voice said from above.
He walked toward the noise and looked up. It was a woman, sitting in the tree about twenty feet up. “What are you doing up there?”
“I’m stuck,” she said, her voice hoarse. “I hurt my ankle climbing up, and now I can’t get down.”
“Look, lady,” Cole said, no patience for this kind of thing right now. As a police officer, he often thought he’d seen everything, but there was always something new. Something like this that had him scratching his head. New Yorkers were different, sometimes weird, but a grown woman in a tree?
“Please,” she said. “I’ve been up here all night, and I’m freezing.”
“Why would you spend the night in a tree?”
“Well, I didn’t want to,” she snipped impatiently. “I climbed up here to get away from a murderer and then, like I said, can’t get down.”
“A murderer?” Cole perked up. Now she was talkin’ his language.
“Yes,” she practically screamed. “I watched a man get shot! Are you going to frickin’ help me or not?”
She witnessed the murder? No way. He set down his coffee, radioed for help, and approached the base of the tree. In the minute they’d been talking, she’d made her way down to the lowest branch.
“Jump. I’ll catch you.” He held out his arms.
“Are you crazy? I’ll flatten you.”
Her voice sounded familiar, and when he looked closer, he realized it was the out-of-towner from the Sip and Swirl. “Holly?”
From ten feet up, her eyes narrowed. “How do you know my name?”
“We met last night. After your beer bath? I drove you back to your hotel.”
She muttered something about terrible luck.
“You probably weigh a buck forty at most. I’m tough. Just jump.”
Staring down dubiously, she didn’t move at first. Then she crawled farther from the trunk and lowered herself down on the branch, hanging like a piece of ripe fruit. Long, lean legs dangled a few feet above his head. Close enough, he could see a tattoo of the number four next to a basketball on her ankle.
“You sure about this?” she asked.
“It’s the fastest way down. I got you. Drop already.”
Without warning, she let go. Caught off guard, her weight hit like a ton of bricks. He grunted as she crashed into him, knocking him off his feet and sending them both tumbling to the ground. “Oof,” he said. “How ’bout a head’s up next time?”
“Nice catch, tough guy,” she said sarcastically.
“I broke your fall, didn’t I?” His arms were still around her, and he could feel how cold she was. He stood, offered a hand, and helped her up. “Here,” he said, sliding off his coat and laying it on her shoulders. “You’re freezing.”
She slid into it eagerly and moaned. “Thank you, Officer…”
“Robinson. Cole.”
She nodded. “That your coffee?” she asked, eyeing the cup he’d left on the ground.
He sighed, picked up the cup, and held it out to her. If she really spent the night in a tree, she needed it more than he did.
“Any chance I can borrow your phone?” Puppy dog eyes met his. “Just for a second,” she added when he paused.
“Um. I guess.” He dug out his phone, unlocked it, and handed it to her. She typed furiously, pausing every once in a while, until the detectives arrived.
As Flanigan and Espinoza approached, she returned his phone. “Whatcha got, Robinson?”
“Plucked a witness from this tree.”
“Huh?”
“She says she witnessed Adams get shot and slept all night in the tree after running away from the shooter.”
“That true?” Espinoza asked Holly.
“I didn’t say anything about sleep, but yes,” she said solemnly. “I’m sorry about your coworker.”
The three of them nodded. “His name was Nick Adams. Will you come back to the scene with us? Walk us through what you saw?”
“Of course.”
She winced when she tried to walk and then started hopping on one foot. Cole slid in beside her and put an arm around her waist. “Lean on me. We’ll get aid to take a look back on the trail.”
Pausing, she must have decided she wouldn’t make it without help and reluctantly slung her arm around his shoulder. “Thanks.”
She was tall and fit comfortably by his side. And even after witnessing a shooting, hurting her ankle, and sleeping in a tree, she seemed to be holding up pretty well.
Back at the murder scene, she pointed to where she’d been hiding. “I could see them, but they couldn’t see me,” she said. “The bad guy was accusing Adams of being a snitch. He played a voice recording that made it kind of obvious he was a cop. At least, that’s what I thought when I heard it.”
“We’ll need details when you make your formal statement, but for now, go on.”
“Adams vehemently denied it, but Edwardo had pulled out a gun.”
“You know his name?” Detective Espinoza’s eyebrows shot up.
“Edwardo Cruz. That’s what Officer Adams called him.” She shrugged, not realizing how monumental the information was.
“Okay. Then what?”
“They struggled for a few seconds. Then Edwardo shot him. Twice. Just like that. With no warning.” She choked up, and tears welled.
“Hey,” Cole said. “You’re doing great. Keep going.”
“I gasped. I couldn’t help it. Edwardo heard me and looked over.”
“Did he see you?” Espinoza asked.
“No. But I knew that once he walked over my way, he would. So, I bolted. Ran till I couldn’t hear him and climbed the tree.”
“You lost him then?”
“Kind of. He was right below me in the copse but never looked up. I overheard him make a call asking for someone to come help him find me, but that’s the last I heard of them. I tweaked my ankle climbing the tree and couldn’t get down. And even if I could’ve, I was too scared I’d run into them again.”
“Why were you in the park so late?”
A look of chagrin crossed her face. “I was lost. Like hopelessly so.”
“Why didn’t you call for help?” Espinoza asked.
“My phone had died earlier. Otherwise, I would’ve GPSed my way out. I felt so bad leaving Officer Adams there. If I could’ve called for an ambulance—”
“Don’t beat yourself up about that,” Detective Flanigan said. “There’s nothing you could have done.”
She nodded. “Have you found my purse? I’m not sure if I left it where I was hiding or dropped it when I ran.”
Cole shared a glance with the detectives.
“No.” Flanigan shook his head. “And that creates another problem.”
“What?” Holly asked, glancing between the three of them.
“What was in your purse?”
“My phone, ID, a credit card, and some cash.”
It took her a second, but she got there. “Oh.” Her eyes widened. “You don’t think…”
“Yes. We do think,” Flanigan said. He made silent eye contact with Cole and waved an EMT over. “Can you give her a once-over please?”
The EMTs helped Holly to the ambulance several feet away and started their evaluation. From where he stood, Cole saw them drape a blanket around her and secure an ice pack to her ankle. They handed her some kind of snack, which she devoured in seconds.
As soon as she was out of earshot, Flanigan turned to his partner. “They know who she is.”
Espinoza nodded. “And probably where she lives.”
Cole piped up. “She’s from out of state. That might slow them down a little.”
“We can’t take that chance. She’s the best thing we’ve got in this case. Let’s take her downtown, see if she can pick Cruz out of a photomontage, get her written statement, and go from there.”
Cole was just along for the ride, shadowing the detectives. This wasn’t his investigation, and he was exhausted from his overnight shift.
“I’m gonna bug out,” he told them. “Had a long night, and there’s nothing I can do now.”
“All right. Great job finding an eyewitness.” Flanigan slapped him on the back. “That’ll look good on the report.”
Cole drove home and fell into bed. A few hours later, his phone woke him again.
“What now?” he answered.
“Our LT wants to talk to you,” Espinoza said in greeting.
“Yours? Any idea what about?” The lieutenant for the detectives had no real jurisdiction over him. But he wanted to make a good impression, so he couldn’t really say no.
“The witness’s hotel key card was also in her purse. When uniforms drove her back and escorted her up, the room had been tossed.”
Cole rubbed his eyes and sat up. “How’d he know which room she was in?”
“She left the key in that little jacket thing. The one they write the room number on?”
“Oh.”
“They left a note. ‘You saw what happens to snitches.’ She’s freaking out.”
“I bet. Look, that’s a tough break, but what’s it got to do with me?”
“You’ll have to ask the LT. Can you be here in twenty?”
Cole grunted and hung up. After a quick shower to wake up, he headed downtown. He stopped for coffee in the squad room and then walked to the LT’s office.
“I’ll get right to the point,” the lieutenant said.
“Appreciate that,” Cole said, sitting.
“I don’t need to tell you that Ms. Holly Bennett is an extremely valuable witness. She described Edwardo Cruz perfectly, right down to his stupid, ugly Fu Manchu. And easily picked him out of a photomontage.”
“Okay.” He dragged out the word.
“She needs protection. Once we arrest Cruz, the DA will foot the bill to keep her safe, but until then, it’s on us. I understand you’re taking some leave?”
Cole’s spine stiffened. He did not like where this was heading. “Yeah. So?”
“It’s a win-win.”
“How is babysitting a small-town hick a win for me?”
“What else you gonna do with a month off?”
He had a point. Cole had no wife or kids. No pets or hobbies. What was he going to do with so much free time? “I planned to get ready for the exam—study and ride with the detectives.”
“According to Adams, Cruz killed Lambert too. You wanna put him away, don’t you?”
“Don’t play the guilt card with me,” Cole said. “I’m supposed to be taking time off. Guarding a witness twenty-four-seven isn’t leave. It’s overtime.”
“About that. You’d still get vacation pay for an eight-hour shift every day. But, yeah, the rest would be on your own time.” The LT had to know he was on shaky ground. Cole had no obligation to do something he wasn’t being paid for.
“I don’t get it. Why don’t we just have patrol guys take turns keeping an eye on her?”
“There’s the rub,” the LT said. “She wants to go home. To New Hampshire.”
“I beg of you, sir.” Cole plowed a hand through his hair. “There must be someone else. She seems nice enough, but I am not the guy for this.”
“No one I can think of with four weeks of free time on his hands.”
Cole sighed. “Just remember this when you’re making decisions on who to promote.”