Final Winter

Which was only partially true. She knew that Brian was gone, and had been gone for the day. He had been upset with her earlier and who could blame him? A night of anger, a night of arguments, a night of recriminations… followed by a night of passion, a hot night for both of them, and then, in the morning… the cold shoulder from her to him.

But what else could have happened?

Just days away from attainment, after years and years of all this work and sacrifice, to complicate things even more with a love affair with someone who was not only a co-worker but a cop with a cop’s suspicious mind — she couldn’t allow it.

So.

Where in hell was he?

Brian had been telling the truth yesterday: the only real reason for his presence on this trip was to sway the General’s opinion, to appeal to that rock-solid and insane patriotism that most military types cherished, like a piece of the True Cross or something, and it had worked. And for that Adrianna felt no guilt.

So why the guilt now?

Victor said, ‘We’ve got to start boarding, Adrianna. Even with our clearances, we’ve got to get to our seats. They won’t hold the aircraft for us.’

‘I know.’

Maybe Brian was done with it all, had taken a flight back to his beloved New York City, ready to take whatever heat the NYPD might deliver for backing out from his commitment to the Tiger Teams. Knowing Brian, maybe that’s what he’d done. She wouldn’t put it past him. She knew he was growing restless with the Tiger Teams, was getting ready to break out, and this little trip out Memphis way had probably tipped the scale. Still…

Maybe he was hurt. Injured. Dead.

Jesus, she thought, that’s morbid…

But easy. It would be easy.

She looked over at Victor. ‘Let’s get on.’

He said, ‘Aren’t you going to put out an alert? Maybe Brian’s been in an accident. Or worse.’

Adrianna touched his arm — the one not carrying the canister, hooked up to his wrist — and said, ‘Brian’s a New York police detective. He can handle everything and anything that’s thrown at him. If I put out an alert, that means a lot of involvement from a lot of agencies, looking for him. Suppose he’s on a drunk? Or at a strip club? Having a Memphis police SWAT team raid a joint, looking for him… well, the embarrassment would be something else.’

‘If I was missing, I sure as hell would hope you would take it more seriously, Adrianna.’

She started to the jetway, Victor trailing next to her. ‘Victor, if you ever went missing I’d put out an alert within the half-hour. It’s not your nature to be anything but predictable and punctual. Brian is neither predictable nor punctual. I’ll give him one more day to report in before getting the world spun up.’

Adrianna strode down the gentle incline, thinking of what she had just said. And another thing, too, was that it would be easier for all concerned. Final Winter, just days from kicking off, and having Brian out of the picture… that would make it so much simpler.

For two reasons.

The first, of course, was that she didn’t need to have his questioning mind at work, the closer they got to the day.

And the second…

A possibility that she found hard to believe, even in her most private thoughts.

She was falling in love with him.

And that could not be tolerated.

At the open door, leading to the cabin, a male flight attendant smiled and checked her boarding pass.

‘Welcome aboard,’ he said.

‘Thank you,’ Adrianna replied, thinking that those were probably the two most honest words she had uttered today.

~ * ~

Brian Doyle looked again at his hands. Soiled red, turning brown as the blood dried.

‘Fuck,’ he said.

He looked up at the street, saw headlights approach. A car passed. And then another.

A third car passed, then made a U-turn.

Could it be?

Blue lights started flashing from the radiator grille.

Luck, he thought, luck of the Irish…

The car stopped and a beam of light came out from a side searchlight, illuminating him and his rental car. He held out his hands and two Cincinnati cops came towards him, flanking him on either side, holding out their flashlights.

One called out, ‘What’s the problem?’

He said, ‘The name’s Doyle. I’m on the Job. I just got jumped and I think I’ve been knifed. Could you get some EMTs over here?’

One of the cops started talking into a portable radio as the other approached, cautious, one hand holding up the flashlight, the other hand on his service weapon. Smart. Don’t trust anybody you don’t know on the street. Anybody.

The second cop said, ‘You got identification, Doyle?’

‘I do. But just so you know, I’m carrying. Nine-millimeter, rear right of my waistband.’

‘All right,’ the second cop said. ‘You just keep your hands where I can see them, and don’t make any sudden moves.’

‘You got it. All right if I bleed?’

‘Bleed away,’ the cop said. ‘Just don’t reach for anything.’

‘Yeah.’

The second cop now joined the first one, and after a brief talk the first cop said, ‘My partner’s going over to see you, to check your weapon and ID. EMTs are on the way. You just stay still. All right?’