Джеймс Паттерсон - Ambush

After their salads, Tom pulled out his cell phone and handed it to the young waiter. “Would you mind taking a quick photo of us with the window in the background?”

Alex thought of all the issues a photograph of her might cause. She scrambled for a quick excuse. Finally she said, “Tom, can we take the photo later? A lady needs to put herself together before she’s photographed.”

Tom laughed. “Spoken like a true professional photographer.”

Crisis averted. For now.

They chatted about horses and a little about their backgrounds. From force of habit in her professional life, Alex didn’t mention that she had two daughters.

Intrigued by what Alex divulged about her frequent travel, Tom told her about the international reach of the NYPD intelligence office.

Alex said, “How is that possible if they are New York police officers?”

“I don’t know the terms, but the city decided they were tired of relying on the feds to give them a heads-up on terror threats. After 9/11, the NYPD started to open offices in countries that were tied to threats. Mainly in Europe. We even have some uniformed officers at the Vatican during special jubilee years. It’s a cool job for a cop.”

Alex said, “Is that something you want to do someday?”

“No. If I’m not going to stay in the Mounted Unit, I’d like to go to Homicide. That’s where the sharp detectives are.”

“I saw an article somewhere about an NYPD homicide detective. I think his name was Michael Bennett. Have you ever heard of him?”

Tom’s face lit up. “Everyone’s heard of Michael Bennett. He’s hot shit. He used to be on the hostage negotiation team, and he’s the one who solved the case where all the hostages were taken at the First Lady’s funeral.”

“I remember that. Do you know him personally?”

Tom shook his head. “I’ve seen him around a couple of times. He’s got a great reputation. And he’s kind of famous for having ten adopted children as well.”

That was information Alex could use. She smiled and took a sip from her glass of Chardonnay. This was turning out to be a great date.

I struck out at the first couple of addresses for my potential suspects. I decided to call it a day and get home at a reasonable hour, though I wasn’t nearly as tired and sore as I had been. I was finally starting to heal.

I wasn’t greeted by young children right at the front door. That rarely happened. As I stepped into the entryway that led to the living room, I was surprised by another man in the house. It took me a minute to register his face.

He smiled, stuck out his hand, and said, “Hello, Mr. Bennett.”

I stammered, “Carter, how nice to see you. I didn’t know you were coming over.” I could be polite, even to a twenty-six-year-old man dating my eighteen-year-old daughter. I was still surprised to see him in my home.

Just then, Mary Catherine hustled around the corner and said, “You see we have a guest for dinner tonight. Your grandfather couldn’t make it, and Juliana thought it’d be nice for Carter to meet the family.”

“Yeah, sure. It’s great.” I tried to put some enthusiasm in my voice but failed.

The young man melted back into the living room to talk to Trent.

Mary Catherine stepped into the hallway and gave me a look that simultaneously said, I’m sorry and Don’t say a single mean word to that boy .

I nodded in acknowledgment. She seemed satisfied and disappeared to supervise the process of setting the table and getting dinner ready.

Once we’d said grace and everyone had been served, Chrissy, who was sitting next to Carter, looked at him with her innocent eyes and said, “You are old.”

I coughed up a little water trying to stifle a laugh. Mary Catherine looked horrified, and Juliana spoke up.

“That’s not very polite, Chrissy.”

Mary Catherine changed the subject and got Juliana talking about the production.

She said, “We’re going to have our first media interviews in the next few days. Someone is supposed to come by the set and take some photographs and interview us for an entertainment magazine.”

Bridget perked up. “Like Entertainment Weekly ?”

“Something like that.”

Fiona chimed in. “What’s the magazine called?”

Juliana hesitated, but Carter said, “The Brooklyn Studio Newsletter .”

Mary Catherine quickly said, “That’s wonderful. It’s so exciting. I could really see things coming together when I visited the set.”

I listened to the evening unfold. I understood that I had to get used to the idea of the dating world. I mean, I have six daughters, for Christ’s sake. But the idea of this good-looking, midtwenties millennial dating my oldest daughter bothered me.

It made me think of all the stories I’d heard from other cops who had chased off boyfriends for one reason or another. My favorite was from a sergeant in Queens who answered the door with no shirt on and a badge pinned through his bare chest. That was hard-core. I needed to take another route.

I said, “Carter, what are your acting goals?”

All actors, like writers, love to talk about their future. To most of them, that future doesn’t factor in family or romance.

And off he went. “Oh, I’m moving to Los Angeles after the first season of Century’s End is complete. I’ve spoken to an agent out there about representing me.”

The look on Juliana’s face told me this was nothing he had discussed with her.

Alex Martinez was worn-out. In a good way. She sprawled in the king-size bed in the tiny lower Manhattan apartment of Officer Tom McLaughlin. Aerobic energy could be as useful in sex as it was on the job. She was still smiling, listening to the gentle snores of her new lover.

The whole night had been wonderful. Dinner at the Tavern on the Green. The stroll through Central Park, which included a visit to the stables. He was really a special guy.

But one thing stuck in her head. She had asked about Michael Bennett, which might have been a mistake. It probably wasn’t a big thing to Officer McLaughlin. He had gone on and on about the homicide detective.

Now she tried to calculate all the ways that might come back to haunt her after Detective Bennett was dead. Would Officer McLaughlin remember the conversation and discuss it with the detectives investigating the murder? If so, did he know anything about her that could be useful? She never did let him have a photograph.

She rolled it over and over in her brain. The sooner you handle a problem, the better things work out.

She wondered if Officer Tom McLaughlin could be a loose end. A loose end that could expose her later.

She rolled over and slipped out of bed silently. She got dressed in the cramped space between the edge of the bed and the wall.

She looked down at the sleeping form of Officer McLaughlin and reached into her purse for her stiletto. She hit the button, and the blade popped straight out of the handle with just a little mechanical click.

She ran through her options once again. This man had done nothing wrong and did not deserve to die because of the mistake she made. But she couldn’t risk someone coming to the ranch one day to arrest her and separate her from the girls.

She closed her eyes and listened to the sounds of the city in the dark apartment. Sometimes she wished she was someone else.

Alex stood in the dark room with the stiletto in her hand, ready to make a drastic decision. Then she was startled by Tom McLaughlin’s voice.

“Do you have to go?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“I need to tell you something. Just so I feel good about where we are. And I don’t want you to think I’m keeping any secrets.”