Джеймс Паттерсон - NYPD Red 6

Damn right he would take questions. Starting with the one he’d planted. He pointed to a female reporter in the front row. She stood up.

“Peg O’Ryan, Eyewitness News . Chief Doyle, now that you’ve discovered that this kidnapping was a conspiracy and nothing like what it appeared to be on the surface, can you tell us if anyone else was involved?”

“That’s a good question, Peg.” Doyle hesitated as if he were wrestling with an answer. But knowing the man, I figured he had rehearsed it with her an hour ago. “As you’re aware, this is still an ongoing investigation, so I’m limited in what I can say.” Another pause. “But I will tell you this: we have information that a person or persons at Ms. Easton’s network, ZTV, may have provided money—a million dollars, in fact—to the kidnapper, Bobby Dodd, in exchange for a video of Ms. Easton in captivity.”

“Did the network know that the video was staged?”

“I can’t say, but when you go behind the backs of the NYPD during an active criminal investigation, it doesn’t matter if you’re colluding or aiding and abetting. You’re breaking the law, and if you’re a television network, you’re violating the public’s trust. Someone at ZTV has a lot of explaining to do.”

O’Ryan fired off another question. “Would that someone be Harris Brockway?”

“Peg, you know I can’t confirm that.”

“Can you deny it?”

The chief shook his head as if he’d been placed in an uncomfortable position. But the three people behind him knew he was relishing the moment.

“No,” he finally said. “I can’t stand here and honestly deny it.”

The crowd erupted. Nothing had been said, but the conclusion was clear: Brockway had paid Dodd a million dollars for the video.

ADA Bill Harrison had told us that Brockway would probably not go to jail for what he’d done. But one thing was sure: his career in television was over.

I knew it, Kylie knew it, and, judging from the Cheshire-cat grin on Harlan Doyle’s face, he not only knew it but was proud as hell to be the man who’d made it happen.

Epilogue

KYLIE AND SHANE, ZACH AND CHERYL

CHAPTER 81

Friday, June 21

Delta Flight 2786

WE’RE FLYING FIRST CLASS?” Kylie said as she sat down in seat 1A.

“That’s what happens when you plan a trip at the eleventh hour,” Shane said, sitting down next to her. “All the cheap seats are gone.”

“Nice try, but you knew you were going to Orlando months ago.”

“Okay, I lied. I’m tall. I bought a first-class ticket back in February. I had to buy you one a few days ago because it’s always so awkward to tell your last-minute date that she’s sitting in coach. But if you’re having trouble adjusting to all this legroom and the free champagne, I’ll ask the flight attendant if she can find someone in the back of the plane to change seats with you.”

“I’ll muddle through,” Kylie said. “But you see what happens when you try to lie to a detective.”

“Yes, and I’m very impressed with your interrogation skills. Now, if you’d like to pat me down and frisk me, I think we have time to sneak into the bathroom before takeoff.”

Kylie laughed. Good-looking, cooks up a storm, and he can make me laugh , she thought. Triple threat .

He rested his hand on hers, and she inhaled sharply as her body responded to his touch. Shane Talbot was gifted with large, strong, magical hands. And not just in the kitchen. She smiled, remembering the first time they’d made love. Then she silently corrected her earlier thought. Quadruple threat .

“Hey,” he said, “I spoke to Cheryl this afternoon. You’ll never guess what she said just before she hung up.”

“She probably said, ‘Don’t be lying to Kylie MacDonald. She’s one smart cop, and she’ll trip you up every time.’ ”

“No. She said, ‘Have fun in Disney World.’ I straightened her out. I said we were going to the Southeast Food Expo. And she said, ‘But Kylie told Zach that you were going to Disney.’ ”

“Not true. I told Zach that we were going to Orlando for the weekend. I can’t help it if his mind jumped to talking mice and fairy-tale princesses. If he wanted to know specifics, he should have asked.”

“Kylie, if you tell your old boyfriend that you’re going to Orlando with your new boyfriend, he’s never going to ask for specifics.”

“At what point did we establish that you’re my new boyfriend?”

“My cousin the shrink is so right. You love to mess with Zach’s head. And I think I should be flattered that you’re starting to enjoy messing with mine.”

He leaned over and kissed her, lingering just long enough for Kylie to wish she’d taken him up on his offer to pat him down in the bathroom.

There was something about Shane Talbot that was unfathomable. The physical attraction was intense, but it was more than that.

It was … no, it definitely wasn’t love. Too soon. You can’t decide that you love someone just because he dazzles you with dinner, and the sex is good. Okay, better than good—incredible. But love? That takes time.

Or maybe it doesn’t. She’d only loved two men in her life, and she’d fallen for each of them hard and fast.

With Spence, it was date him, dump him, take him back, marry him, walk out on him eleven years later, and now …

Now? Good question. She hadn’t seen or heard from him since January. It was strange to be technically married and not know whether your husband was alive or dead. But one thing she knew for sure: she didn’t love him anymore.

It was different with Zach. Their affair had lasted all of four weeks. The only reason she’d ended it was to give Spence one more chance. But she’d never stopped loving Zach. Never would.

And now there was Shane Talbot with his first-class seats and his butterscotch budino and his—

“Hey! Ground Control to Major Tom.” She looked up. That handsome face, that thick red hair, those incredible hands …

“I can almost hear the wheels inside your head turning a mile a minute,” Shane said. “What’s going on in there?”

“Nothing much. I was just mulling over this new-boyfriend concept.”

“How am I doing?”

“You’re in the lead,” Kylie said. “But don’t let it go to your head. It’s still only a one-man race.”

“Excuse me, sir.” It was the flight attendant.

Shane looked up. “Yes?”

“You’re going to have to buckle your seat belt.”

A wide smile spread across Shane’s face, and he leaned over and whispered in Kylie’s ear, “Funny … that’s the same advice Cheryl gave me when I told her you and I were going away for the weekend.”

CHAPTER 82

Sunday, June 23

Bentley’s by the Sea, Montauk, New York

HAPPY ANNIVERSARY,” Cheryl whispered in my ear.

“It’s the middle of the night,” I slurred, hugging my pillow closer to my cheek.

“No, it’s not. It’s five o’clock in the morning, and I want you to see your anniversary present before it’s too late.”

I half rolled over. “Bring it here.”

“No can do. It’s on the beach. Get up. We’re running out of time.”

I’d rather have celebrated our anniversary over a late brunch, but when you’re a man in a relationship, you learn that some things are not debatable.

We threw on some clothes, grabbed a couple of blankets, left the warmth of our cozy little cottage, and trekked out past the dunes. We spread one blanket on the cold damp sand and wrapped ourselves in the other.

“I’m ready for my present,” I said.

Cheryl checked her watch. “Three more minutes.”