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Prelude Alex Masters ducked into the alley. She peeked around the corner, trying to make sure she'd just seen what she thought she'd seen. Her heart rate had suddenly tripled at the sight of him. Just one more look to be sure. No. It wasn't him, too young. She let out a sigh of relief. That ghost wasn't back to haunt her at least. At first glance the resemblance had been amazing. She watched him walk by the alley and saw the difference in build, gait. When she caught her breath once more and her heart stopped pounding, she slipped back onto the sidewalk and continued on her way to Jellyroll's. He answered at her first knock and ushered her inside. Alex stepped through the doorway a bit warily. This was her normal time, her normal day. He should have been ready with her stuff and just given it to her. She stayed just inside the entrance. "What's going on? Where's my stuff?" Jelly gave her a big smile, suspicious in and of itself. "Just a little mix up. I didn't get a delivery last night. I have something else though. Do the same thing. Just keep your energy up." Alex eyed him suspiciously as he reached under a sofa cushion and pulled out a small packet of white powder. "No. I'm not going on the hard stuff. I told you when I started coming here, I just need a little pick me up because the pain meds drag me down so much." "Easy girl. Easy. This is the same thing, just in a powder. I swear. It's just this one time." He eyed her. "Of course if you'd rather go home empty-handed." Alex dropped her head back and it smacked against the wall. Shit, that hurt. Maybe this was a sign she was supposed to stop. She needed to cut back at the very least. If she could only kick the painkillers it'd all be fine. But she couldn't sleep without them. A shiver of cold went through her and her body trembled, begging to be fed what it needed. "Just this once?" "Sure. I'll have your regular stuff next time, I promise." "Same price?" He grinned. "Same price." He handed it to her as she handed him the wad of bills. Chapter One Homicide Lieutenant Cole Armstrong followed the sound of raised voices. At the closed door to Vice Lieutenant Steve Miller's office stood four detectives, with their ears to the wall. When they saw Cole they straightened and had the decency to look slightly embarrassed. Cole indicated Steve's office with his chin. "What's going on? I heard it all the way down the hall." "The Loot and Alex are going at it." Cole raised an eyebrow. "Alex Masters?" They all nodded in unison. Cole sighed. "How long has this been going on?" To a one, they looked at their watches. "More'n five minutes." Butch Gordon replied. Cole debated almost a full minute, still the arguing continued. It didn't sound like they were going to wind up any time soon. With another heavy sigh he stepped to the door and quietly opened it. Alex Masters had both hands flat on the desk and she was leaning into Steve's face. Steve, normally a very placid man, had a complexion the color of Bing cherries. "This is useless," Alex was bellowing. "I quit. Do everyone a favor Miller: go shoot yourself." She pushed herself off the desk, started to turn away, then whirled back. "Better yet, tell me when you're ready and I'll do it for you!" She brushed past Cole without seeing him or any of the men standing around the doorway. Steve sank back into his chair with a sigh of relief. "I was beginning to think I was going to have to throw her out bodily." He glanced at Cole. "What a law suit that would've been, huh?" Sensing that as an invitation Cole closed the door, much to the disappointment of the rest of the Vice squad. Taking a seat across from Steve he asked, "What the hell was that about?" "Your girlfriend's using Armstrong. You know that?" "Whoa. Back the train up. In the first place, she's not my girlfriend." At his colleague's skeptical expression, he felt the need to defend himself. "We're friends. She sings in my band, but that's as far as it goes." "Whatever you say." "What makes you think she's using drugs?" Cole tried to shift the topic. Steve gave a short burst of laughter and pointed at the door. "That wasn't proof?" "Some people have tempers." The Vice detective leaned back in his chair and looked at Cole. "In denial are we?" Choosing not to answer, Cole asked another question. "So that's what all the shouting was about? You accused her of using and she denied it?" "It didn't start out that way, no. Though I've been pretty sure of it for a while. Her work's been suffering. I tried to point it out subtly several times, but things weren't getting better. Last night I stayed late. Felt like a damn schoolteacher correcting every damn report she completed yesterday. I left them on her desk. She didn't appreciate it." When all Cole did was nod, Steve continued. "I tried to be civil about it, but she wasn't having any of it. Finally I told her I thought she was using and that if she needed help getting into a program, I'd be happy to help her." He crossed his arms and leaned back. "Well, you saw the results. Do you know I hadn't spoken a word in over three minutes? I was timing her. She just went off." He tossed one hand in the air, and chuckled. "Actually that parting line was pretty good. I'll have to remember that, use it sometime." Cole shook his head. Even-tempered Steve was back. "Then you're cool?" Miller shrugged. "She's not coming back here, but yeah, it's not like I'm going to do anything about it." When Cole stood he added, "You know she won't get another job in the department without a drug test, don't you?" It was Cole's turn to laugh. "I don't think we have to worry about that anytime soon." With a heavy heart Cole left Vice and headed back to his own office. He couldn't help thinking about the past few weeks. Ancient Rebellion, his classic rock band, had been practicing hard for an upcoming competition, the prize was ten grand. They could all use an extra two thousand to pad their bank accounts. Alex was their female vocalist. Her inability to concentrate, stay on beat, was one reason they'd had to rehearse so frequently. Lately they'd been at it every night. To no avail. Cole thought about her annoyance when they hadn't kept up with her. She was always a beat or two ahead and claimed they were lagging, when in fact she was the one off tempo. She hadn't been able to stand still during the ballads they did together. Always swaying or pacing the small stage set up in the converted studio that had once been Jimmy's garage. Cole had attributed it to nerves. What was going on with his Angel? His use of the pet name he'd given Alex months ago, after she'd doctored his badly injured shoulder, brought another image to him. Alex in a rage because Cole had tracked her down to King Marshall's vacant home, where she'd run to hide from a killer. At the time, he'd discussed her behavior with his sister Luce, and his friend Jimmy. The thought of drug use had come up in that talk, but he'd shoved it to the back of his mind. The more he thought about it the more he realized he'd only been fooling himself, and not very well at that. What surprised him was that none of the other band members, his friends since high school, had spoken up, complained. Not even Woody, the pianist. Woody would have tagged her right away, knowing all the signs. Hell, Cole was a cop he knew all the signs. But Woody had a sister who had died of an overdose in spite of his many attempts to "save" her. Cole was stunned Woody's zealousness hadn't forced him to confront Alex. Sinking into his desk chair, Cole reached for the phone. "Hannaford Construction." No doubting the deep voice belonged to the owner of the company. "Woody, it's Cole. I have a question for you." He laid out the morning's events and his hindsight revelations for his friend. "So my question is why didn't you say something to me? Or call her on it?" There was a long silence, Cole wasn't sure that they hadn't lost the connection. Finally he heard a heavy sigh. "To what end, Cole? To be honest, Jimmy, Bruce and I have talked about it. We knew your feelings for her were clouding your vision. We wanted to give it a little more time, see if you would come around on your own." Cole's stomach sank to his feet. "As for Alex, what was the point? She'd deny it, just like she did this morning. We have to wait until she's to the point where she'll listen. She has to want help." When Cole didn't respond, still dwelling on his own blindness, Woody went on. "Cole, we're your friends. We're Alex's too. We didn't want to do anything to jeopardize those relationships. If we confronted you while you were in denial, God only knows what sort of hurtful things might have been said. Once you realized we were right, you'd probably forgive us and we, you. But the words would still be there, never to be taken back. We knew eventually you'd have to face the reality of her situation, and we'd be there for you. "As for Alex. Like I said, there's nothing for her until she's ready to admit she has a problem. As long as we continue to show her we care about her and aren't going to run at the first sign of trouble, we're the ones she'll come to when she needs help. God knows she has a history of running when the going gets tough. We don't want that, we want her to realize she has the support system right here." "You guys got together and had dinner over this didn't you?" Cole felt anger, frustration, embarrassment, and helplessness. Woody chuckled. "Actually just coffee, but yeah, the conversation got kind of deep. It wasn't intentional, Cole. It wasn't like: 'Hey we can't talk to Cole about this. Let's get together and figure out a plan.' Remember that night you got paged back to work? You had to run Alex home. It was still early so we went to the diner, I could tell something was on Jimmy's mind. I didn't know what it was--" Cole cut him off. "You don't have to explain, Wood. It's okay. I'm not mad at you. I'm ticked at myself." "Don't go there buddy. You know down deep you have feelings for her. You're afraid, she's afraid. One of these days you're both going to have to face those fears and figure out where you stand. But only you can decide when that will be." "When did you get your psychology degree?" Cole grumbled. "It's no secret you've been woman-shy since Diane--" "Not true. God, Woody that was more than ten years ago. I'm over it." "Uh huh." Cole heard voices in the background on the other end of the phone. "Pal, I'd love to continue this couch-session, but I've got a problem at one of my sites that requires my personal attention. Call me tonight, huh?" "Yeah, maybe." "Cole?" "I've got a lot to think about. You go do your job. Thanks. I mean it." "Anytime." Diane Collier. Cole stared at the phone, unable to move his eyes. Hell, he hadn't thought about her in ages. Yet all it took was the mere mention of her name to bring back the vivid memories of her--her smile, the sparkle in her eyes. The way she looked in her uniform the day they'd graduated from the academy. Her brain matter splattered all over the driver's side window of her cruiser. No. Cole didn't want to go there. Not now, not ever. |
