Burnout (NYPD Blue & Gold) by Tee O'Fallon Page B

nipples.
    Visions of Mike and what his bare, toned body must look like beneath all that Kevlar insinuated themselves into her thoughts. She imagined him unclasping her bra, running his hard, callused hands over her—
    “Earth to Cassie,” Chuck yelled from the far side of the kitchen. “For the third time, are you there?”
    “What?” She looked up from stirring.
    Chuck smirked. “We realize you’re preoccupied with your failed attempt at murdering the chief of police the other day, but do you have a cell phone in your locker?”
    “Yes.” She stopped stirring. “Why?”
    “It’s vibrating.” He inclined his head to a metal locker labeled “Chef” against the wall behind him.
    She slapped the heavy spoon onto the counter, splashing droplets of meaty sauce everywhere, then hustled to her locker. The phone went off again, sounding like a swarm of bees. Cassie retrieved the phone and cued up her voicemail. She listened to Dom’s message telling her to call him right away. Not a good sign.
    While dialing Dom’s cell, she called out to Chuck and Leo, “I’ll be outside for a few minutes.”
    Cassie pushed open the rear screen door and walked to the far end of the staff lot where she’d parked her Trail Blazer in the shade of a large elm tree. A light breeze rustled the leaves overhead, cooling the sweat on her face. Ten thirty in the morning and it had to be eighty-five degrees already.
    When Dom answered she got right to the point. “Please tell me you have good news.”
    “Sorry,” he said. “After you told Gray about not leaving that light on in your house, he had forensics sweep your place.”
    “You found something? Prints?”
    “No, your place was clean, but Gray and I interviewed your neighbors. Several of them said a man was asking for you.”
    She frowned. “What man, what did he look like?”
    “Average height, average build, mid-thirties, brown hair, brown eyes.”
    “That’s no help.”
    “One more thing.” Dom paused. “He also had a goatee and a hook-shaped nose. Ring any bells?”
    Cassie shook her head. “No, it doesn’t.”
    “Damn, we’re running in circles here.” Strain was evident in Dom’s voice, and Cassie knew he had to be putting in loads of overtime on this. “The hit doesn’t make sense. You dying wouldn’t free Manici. I still can’t shake the feeling we’re missing something.”
    She leaned against the Trail Blazer and pressed her fingers to her forehead. No matter how much she deluded herself, her life was still very much in jeopardy and remaining hidden was essential. “I know everyone is doing the best they can.” She hoped she sounded more encouraging than she felt.
    “Gray and I contacted every snitch we have on the street, but so far everything’s a dead end. Is there anything else you can think of, anything you said or did or saw while you were working at that place that you haven’t told us?”
    “For the hundredth time, no.” A headache began pounding behind her forehead. “The only other thing I can suggest is to keep reviewing Manici’s secret stash of videotapes. Could be something there I don’t know about.”
    “The only thing we confirmed from interviewing some of the guys on the tapes is that Manici really was blackmailing his customers. He’d pick out the rich ones with a wife, kids, good job, and a reputation to protect, then turn on the camera to record a back room session with one of the girls. Later, he’d threaten the customer with sending a copy of the tape to the guy’s home or place of business. Manici squeezed one pathetic sucker, a smarmy lawyer named Andrew Gould, for twenty grand.” Dom barked out a laugh. “When Gray interviewed him, Gould broke down and cried like a girl, no offense. Pissed his pants, saying it would ruin his marriage and he’d lose his job if word got out about his preference for underage girls.”
    “Twenty thousand?” Cassie whistled. “Manici had some little side business.”
    “Not so