Lenora Worth - Deep Undercover

“Because he could strike again,” she replied, her eyes holding his.

Gavin nodded. “Yes, I have a bad feeling this might only be the beginning.”

* * *

The next morning, Griffin’s Diner was hopping as usual. People still enjoying what was left of the Fourth of July weekend were lined up at the double French doors of the quaint brick building located on a bustling corner near 94th Street in Queens.

Brianne had walked the couple blocks over from the K-9 Command Unit in search of some good coffee and a nice shady spot on the patio.

The old red bricks of the restaurant had mellowed to a deep burgundy over the years. Brianne remembered coming here with her parents as a child and seeing the pictures on the wall of fallen officers, one of them a brother to the owner, Louis Griffin. Most of the K-9s in service now had been named after those who’d died while on duty, including Gavin’s partner, Tommy, named after Officer Tommy McNeill.

The diner had been in the Griffin family for generations and easygoing baseball fanatic Louis “Lou” Griffin was a fixture in the place, along with his blunt-talking wife, Barbara, who had a no-nonsense attitude and took care of everything from bookkeeping to settling down unruly customers. Their daughter, Violet, a friend of Brianne’s, worked with them when she wasn’t at her regular job as a ticket agent at the airport. They’d lost their five-year-old son to meningitis nearly twenty years ago. She often wondered if that’s why they all poured so much love into this old building.

Brianne moved around to the right corner where an alfresco area lined with potted dish gardens led to the private space designated for the NYPD and the K-9 team’s four-legged partners. She opened one of the matching French doors there, smiling at the etched plaque over the door— The Dog House, Reserved for New York’s Finest.

She headed inside to see if Violet was working and get that big cup of coffee but stopped when she heard her name.

“Hey, Bree.”

Turning, she saw Gavin approaching, Tommy moving ahead.

Holding the door, she tried to hide her surprise. “What are you doing here?”

He pointed to where a big red umbrella cast a shade over one of the square metal tables near a side street. “I never ate last night. I’m going to order a big breakfast.” Then he lifted his chin. “Grab your coffee and meet me back out here. It’s cloudy and not too hot yet. Lou’s got the rotating fan going already.”

“Outside it is, then,” she replied, again noticing her good-looking coworker while she wondered why she’d stopped here today, of all mornings. Unless someone else showed up, they had the whole patio to themselves. Not that she minded. More like too intimate . Brianne wanted to keep things light and professional. But...a chance meeting over coffee, coworkers did that, right?

When she came back with a to-go cup, Gavin didn’t dare hold out her chair, even though he looked as if he might. They both sat down at the same time, facing toward the street, their partners curling up at their feet to wait for water and a special treat from Lou.

“So how ya doing?” he asked, his attitude more relaxed and laid back today.

“Peachy,” she replied. “Slept like a rock.”

“I never know if you’re being sarcastic or serious,” he replied, smiling over at her.

“And I’ll never tell you which.”

She hadn’t slept much at all. She kept reliving the moment when that bomb had exploded. But she’d made notes each time she remembered something and she aimed to get back to work. Like right now.

Barbara came out with a coffee pot. “Anyone hungry?” She refilled Gavin’s mug, her question causing Brianne’s stomach to growl loudly. “What else can I bring you guys?”

“Pancakes,” they both said, laughing.

“Pancakes it is,” she said, taking her pen out from behind her ear, loose strands of curling brown hair with gray edging escaping her bun. “How ’bout some bacon with that?”

“None for me,” Brianne said. “I hadn’t planned on staying.”

“Double stack,” Gavin replied to Barbara.

Brianne shook her head and smiled up at Barb. “Hey, is Violet here this morning?”

“Not yet,” Barb said with a smile. “But she’s due to stop by any minute now. We’re going to talk wedding plans. Have you seen her ring?”

“I have,” Brianne replied. “She and Zach seem so happy.”

“They are—finally,” Barb said. “Took them all of their lives living next to each other and then almost getting killed by some drug dealer to figure it out.”

When Barbara walked away, Gavin looked over at Brianne. “Zach needed someone in his life right now. It’s been tough on all of the Jameson brothers, losing Jordan.”

“I agree,” Brianne said, remembering Jordan’s funeral and how his brothers had stood so solemn and strong. “Now if we could just find his killer.”

“Yeah, I want that, too.” Gavin looked down, probably remembering being heavily questioned about Jordan’s death since the whole unit knew he’d been bitter about not being promoted to chief. But she didn’t broach that subject. He’d been cleared, and that was good enough for her.

He didn’t offer up any explanations. Instead, he switched gears. “So you like pancakes, but you don’t eat meat?”

“I do but...bacon is addictive. I try to pace myself.”

“And why are you in such a hurry to get away from me?”

“I’m not,” she said, thinking she needed to do just that. “I came by to get some coffee and chat with my friend. But I remembered some things about last night so I jotted notes to add to my official report. I wasn’t planning on hanging around for a big breakfast. I want to do a search and see if I can get a match on that bomber.”

He took a sip of his coffee and did the cop scan that came naturally. Trucks whizzed by, vehicles honked, people hurried down the sidewalks. A typical day in the city. “I figured you’d head right to headquarters this morning.”

“I went over my report early this morning,” she said, nodding. “And I have lots of questions, but I needed some of Barbara’s strong coffee first.”

“What kind of questions?” he asked. “I have a few of my own but we’ll need to see what the lab’s found, too.”

“That guy in the plaid hat. Gavin, he walked right past us.”

“Yeah, I know. Taunting the police? Daring us to see him?”

She took a long drink of coffee. “I did some research online. No other recent reports of bomb threats or bomb scares, but there does seem to be a rash of small explosions all over the city lately.”

Gavin tensed up and turned wary. “Such as?”

“In buildings, parking garages, things like that. They’ve all been explained away as accidents. A boiler explosion here, a garage fire there, several construction fires. But no bomb threats or actual bombs—except possibly at one particular site.” She paused. “A site that you and Tommy worked, Gavin. Williamsburg. A boiler exploded in the basement. Why were you called in?”

He didn’t flinch, and he didn’t look away. “I heard the call on the radio. I happened to be nearby so I went.”

“What did you find?”

He looked away this time. She’d read the report. Possible incendiary device. Unsubstantiated. Not enough evidence.

“Gavin, what do you know about that explosion?”

Giving her a confused stare, he asked, “What are you getting at?”

“Nothing. Because I have nothing. But I’m concerned we might start seeing more bombings in the parks or in other big crowded events. Maybe even in buildings. I don’t want that to happen but if it does, we’ll need to be prepared for a serial bomber.”