Robert B. Parker’s Buried Secrets

Thirty-Nine

Tate came into the station for his shift just as Rita and Peebles walked out.

He stared at them as they left, then turned to Molly. “What’s going on? How the hell is he walking out now?”

“Language,” Molly said. She didn’t really mind, but she didn’t like the way Tate demanded answers of her, like she was a secretary.

“What?” He looked confused.

“Never mind,” Molly said. “He’s leaving with his defense attorney because Ellis won’t charge him.”

“Well, that is some bullshit,” Tate said, eyes wide.

“Preaching to the choir,” Molly said, and turned away from him. She was mad enough as it was. She didn’t need the rookie to tell her it was utterly screwed up.

She was about to ask him why he was at the station. He wasn’t supposed to be on shift for another hour or so. And he was supposed to patrol with Peter now.

But Tate was already out the door, on his way to his vehicle.

As Tate got to the street, he saw the hot attorney escorting Peebles down the sidewalk toward a BMW that cost more than he’d made in the last three years.

All right, he thought. Jesse wanted him to patrol. This was perfect. He’d patrol.

This was his chance to show Jesse, to show all of them. He was serious. He was a cop.

And he was not about to let this piece of shit get away, no matter what his fancy defense lawyer had pulled.

Rita didn’t particularly like the idea of driving the Peebles kid back to Boston. She wasn’t an Uber for criminals. She didn’t like spending time in close quarters with crooks fresh out of jail. One of the hazards of her occupation: She knew exactly what her clients were capable of, and she was in no way exempt. But his uncle, Charles Mulvaney, wanted him delivered to the firm, and it wasn’t phrased as a request.

Maybe Jesse had a point about representing mobsters, she thought.

She’d tried to winnow them out of her client list, but her firm, Cone, Oakes, had not gotten to the top without incurring a few debts along the way. There were still old-school types in Boston who expected their markers to be honored, and they probably had plenty of buried secrets they could dig up to make life embarrassing for the partners.

Rita tried to make her peace with it. She’d put worse people back on the street. She balanced the scales where she could. Innocent people rarely need defense attorneys. This was her job, and she did it well.

At least Peebles didn’t strike her as dangerous. In fact, he seemed almost inert. He sagged against her passenger door as if he couldn’t take the weight of gravity. He acted like a dog about to be taken to the kennel — or to the vet to be put down.

Her partners hadn’t told her what was going on here, and she didn’t ask. Now she wished she had. Maybe Jesse wasn’t just blowing smoke about the danger this guy was in.

“You all right?” she asked. He hadn’t said more than five words since Jesse had retrieved him from the cell.

He turned his head and looked at her. “Fine,” he said.

“I don’t have to take you back to the firm,” she said. “I can drop you anywhere you’d like.”

Peebles laughed like she’d told a bad joke.

“What?”

“It doesn’t matter where you take me,” he said. “I’m dead sooner or later.”

“What?” Rita asked again. “What do you mean?”

But Peebles just gave her a colder look than she thought possible and turned to stare back out the window. “You know what I mean,” he said.

She knew she shouldn’t get involved. All she had to do was drive.

But she didn’t like the idea of being used to deliver Peebles to someone who’d hurt him. Rita did not allow herself to be used.

She tried again. “Why don’t you tell me what’s going on?”

“If you don’t know, you don’t want to,” Peebles said. “Believe me.”

“Try me,” Rita said.

Nothing.

“Hey, you’re my client. I have an obligation—”

Then Rita checked her mirror, and suddenly she had another concern: There was a Paradise PD SUV tailing her. And not being very subtle about it.

She couldn’t believe Jesse would be that dumb.

Well, maybe. Just not that dumb with her. It had been a long time since they’d been together, but surely he had a little more respect for her than to put a car on her like this?

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me,” she said.

“What?”

“Cop car,” Rita said.

Peebles turned to look. “Why are they following so close?”

“It’s just a small-town intimidation tactic,” she said. “Believe me, the chief is going to hear about it—”

And then the SUV roared ahead as the driver hit the gas and bumped hard into the rear of Rita’s BMW.

“Jesus Christ!” she said, and grabbed the wheel as the BMW tried to slide out from under her. She stomped the gas, cranked the wheel to the right, and skidded to a halt alongside the road.

She realized they were just about a hundred yards past the sign for Paradise’s town limits.

The cop pulled to a stop behind them. No lights, no sirens.

This was not normal, Rita knew. There was no way on earth Jesse would ever allow this. Her heart hammered at her ribs. She felt cold. She couldn’t catch her breath.

Peebles stared into the rearview, watching. His face had gone slate-gray.

“Just stay calm. Stay seated. We’ll see what’s going on here.”

Rita still couldn’t breathe right, but she felt like she had to be calm for him.

Peebles shrugged, as if it made no difference to him whatsoever.

She was terrified, she realized. She felt all the pain and the fear of the hospital and the days after coming back to her.

The cop spoke to them through the PA on the SUV. “Step out of the car. Both of you. Hands in the air.”

“You have got to be out of your goddamn mind,” Rita muttered.

“NOW,” the voice demanded, loud enough to make the windows rattle.

Rita took a breath, then stepped out, hands in the air. Her whole body shook.

Peebles remained in the car, she realized.

“YOU TOO, SCUMBAG,” the PA blared.

Rita knew she couldn’t let him do this. Not without saying something, not if she still wanted to respect herself. All she had was her voice. Somehow she found it.

“You want to explain what’s going on here, Officer?” she yelled.

The SUV’s door popped open and a young cop got out. He had his gun drawn, and he fixed it on her.

Rita couldn’t believe what she was seeing. This guy was out of control. How had Jesse ever hired him?

“Get on the ground!” the cop screamed, face red, hand on his gun.

“Hey. You hit me.” Rita pointed at the sign that marked the start of the Paradise town limits. “And you are out of your jurisdiction.”

She hoped he couldn’t see how her finger shook while she pointed.

“You get on the goddamn ground now!” he shouted.

“Listen,” she said, “I want to know what you think you’re doing before—”

The cop’s face was red and twisted with anger. He looked demonic.

“Hey,” Rita shouted, and reached into her pocket for her phone. “I am going to record this! You have no right to do this!”

“PUT THE GODDAMN PHONE DOWN NOW!” he screamed as he pulled the hammer back on his gun.

Rita suddenly realized she was very close to getting shot — again. This cop did not care about what he could and could not do. He would just do it, and worry about the consequences later.

And that’s when she lost it.

The terror rushed back into her. All of the pain of her recovery, the days and nights in the hospital, the physical therapy, the violation, all filled her as if she were drowning in very cold water.

She dropped the phone instantly. She was very scared. She didn’t know what was about to happen. But it wasn’t going to be good.

And this wasn’t some thug shooting at her from a moving car. This was a cop.

The cop turned to her car. Peebles was still sitting inside.

“I said GET OUT OF THE FUCKING CAR!”

Nothing. Peebles stayed where he was.

The cop stomped down the side of the road toward Rita, still aiming at her. Then he grabbed her by the neck and shoved her to the ground. Rita landed hard.

She felt his shoe on her back. “Don’t you fucking move,” he growled. She turned her head to see him from the corner of her eye. He faced the car, gun pointed at it. “Now you, scumbag. Don’t make me tell you again!”

After what felt like minutes, Peebles got out. She could see his feet under the car.

Despite herself, she closed her eyes tight. She couldn’t bear to watch.

Don’t do anything stupid, she thought. Please don’t do anything stupid.

Matthew Peebles sat in the expensive BMW for a second. The sound of the cop screaming at him seemed very distant, like a faraway echo.

He didn’t really want to stand up. The leather seat was comfortable, especially after sitting on nothing but the cot in the cell for the past couple of days.

The cop had the same uniform as the other officers. He was confused, but only for a moment. Peebles knew Jesse couldn’t protect him. Where are you going to hide from the devil?

He got out of the car.

The cop was still shouting.

Peebles turned to face him, even though he was shaking. For a moment, he was a kid again, opening that garage door, looking inside.

He looked at the cop aiming at him down the barrel of a gun. He saw the cold, blank eyes of his uncle Charlie staring back.

He knew what was about to happen.

And he felt no more fear.

Rita heard three gunshots. Her eyes snapped open. Underneath the car, she saw Peebles hit the dirt, his head turned toward her, his eyes now staring and empty.

Oh God, she thought. Not again. Please. Not again.

The cop’s foot left her back. Rita instinctively curled into a ball and, despite herself, looked up at the cop. She screamed as he pointed the gun at her, certain she was about to die next.