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CHAPTER2
Gabriel Fox watched footage of the riots in disbelief. Six TVs in the incident room at city hall broadcast six different news reports. He refused to call what he saw happening unrest, as his boss, City Prosecutor Carolyn Madden, did. These were riots and he couldn’t believe how quickly they’d sprung up and how organized they were.
He felt for the cops. After all, until two years ago he’d been one of them, a sergeant in fact. Then he left for what he thought would be greener pastures. He signed on with the county DA as an investigator and was only recently transferred back to work investigations for the city prosecutor in his hometown of LaRosa. He might be in plain clothes, but he’d never say he found the pastures any greener than when he was in uniform.
The footage switched from LA to LaRosa. LA was knee-deep in its own problems. The mayor had held a press conference earlier in the day asking for calm and revealing the body cam footage, which showed the woman pointing a gun at the officer. It was obvious she’d been given every chance to drop the weapon.
LaRosa’s mayor, Elise White, followed suit with her own press conference a short time ago, but Gabe could only frown and speculate whether her father, Ira HoffmanSr., had written her speech. In it she basically cheered on the protesters, saying their hearts were in the right place, on the side of justice. Gabe wondered if she’d just been caught so off guard, she hadn’t really thought the statement out. It didn’t remotely support police officers or do anything to calm things down. But then, her family owned the Tribune, and every cop in the city knew the paper was not their friend.
Most of the riot footage on the screens were feeds from the air, different news helicopters, with cameras zooming in for close-ups now and again. In LA a strip mall was in flames on one channel; on another they were showing LaRosa, where a group of men tossed a Molotov cocktail into a rolling dumpster, then tried to push the flaming mess through the police line.
“Wow. They want to burn down the substation.” Gabe shook his head and kept watching, his mouth agape. Briefly he wondered about her. Danni Grace. He’d heard all sworn personnel had been called out, so she had to be there. With all the officers in riot gear it was difficult to recognize anyone. A couple of the bigger guys he could guess. Mel Howard stuck out. Not far from Mel, a smaller person also stood out. He bet she was Yen. Why on earth was she out there in front? Was Danni there also?
Gabe clenched and unclenched his fists as anger started to boil. Chief Estes had obviously been caught flat-footed on the riot response, which saddened Gabe because he liked Estes. But what was the supervisor on the ground thinking? The BUGS, ariot-training acronym for “big ugly guys,” should be out front. As smart and tough as Yen was, this crowd was too volatile.
He saw rocks and bottles flying over the front line, some hitting riot shields, some landing in front of the substation. Folding his arms tightly, he fought the rising fury. LaRosa PD had good people and good leadership. Why did this response look so haphazard?
He knew the answer: politics, the root of all evil in Gabe’s mind. Politics was the reason his new boss wouldn’t call a riot a riot. The results of the recent election still had Gabe scratching his head. The residents of LaRosa rejected a mayor and a DA who were tough on crime and supportive of police in favor of two people who promised “change.” Why did the city need change? It was one of the safest cities in the state, always in the top three, despite sharing a border with the much larger and more volatile LA.
He didn’t have anything against Elise White personally. Before becoming mayor, she’d run several nonprofits to help low-income residents, so Gabe knew she at least had a heart for service. While she’d never been overly supportive of police, she’d never vocally parroted her father’s anti-cop views. White was a well-known local celebrity, one of LaRosa’s richest residents; she just had zero executive experience to be mayor. Gabe had heard the speeches full of platitudes and unrealistic promises and dismissed them. But the voters of LaRosa had not.
His boss, the new city prosecutor, Madden, did not have a background or a heart for service. She was a politician, not a civil servant. In Gabe’s view Madden was simply politically calculating, not civic-minded. When she failed to take this attack on law enforcement seriously, he knew his assessment was correct.
As footage of the riots rolled on, Gabe could only stare in disbelief. This was so wrong. People were getting hurt. Just then, a huge object—it looked like a thirty-two-ounce water bottle—flew through the air and smacked Yen’s shield. The impact sent her staggering back and she went down. The camera zoomed in for a close-up. Gabe stepped toward the screen, wishing he could be there to help and praying Yen wasn’t seriously injured. It was absolute chaos unfolding.
When the officer next to Yen yanked off their riot helmet, he almost yelled, “Don’t take it off, you idiot,” but his speech fled when he recognized the officer, her profile unmistakable even from a distance.
Danni.
He didn’t see what hit her, but he saw her go down—hard. The response from surrounding officers told him it was serious. He grabbed his wallet and keys and was out the door before hearing what the news commentator said about the incident. His car scanner told him an ambulance was being dispatched to the riot scene. Danni would be transported.
Gabe pulled into Memorial Hospital’s parking lot fifteen minutes later. He sat for a few minutes. The east substation was closer to the hospital than city hall was, but with all the chaos, how long would it take Danni to get here?
Unable to wait long, Gabe got out of the car and made his way down to the emergency room. Part of him thought this was foolhardy. He was certain he was the last person Danni would want to see. The rest of him needed to know, needed reassurance she was okay.
When he entered the emergency waiting room, he scanned for signs that the ambulance had deposited Danni here and was rewarded by the sight of a lieutenant he knew well. Lieutenant Rafael Gomez, or Go-Go as he was affectionately called, was most likely the watch commander at the moment. He stood next to the nurses’ station, leaning on one elbow, facing away from Gabe. He was in uniform, and from the way it fit, he’d put on some pounds in the last couple of years.
Approaching the lieutenant, Gabe swallowed and worked for a teasing, upbeat tone. “They let anyone in this place,” he joked, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. “No standards here.”
Go-Go turned, his scowl fading to welcome recognition when he saw Gabe. “Well, I’ll be. If it isn’t the turncoat Fox.” He held out his hand and they shook. “How in the world did you find out about this so soon?”
“I saw it live on TV. How is she?”
Gomez pulled out his phone and brought up a picture. “A bloody mess.”
Gabe swallowed as fear swept through him at the sight of Danni covered in blood, a jagged gash along her forehead.
“Piece of concrete knocked her out cold.”
“I hope you caught the puke who threw it.”
Gomez nodded. “She was conscious when they got here, a little disoriented after having her bell rung, but coming out of it. They took her to X-ray to see if there’s any fractures.”
Gabe folded his arms, not sure what to say. It was no secret he had left the PD because their divorce was so acrimonious, so Go-Go must be wondering why he was here. What would I say if he asked? he wondered. Gomez had been one of Gabe’s training officers a long time ago. Gabe had always liked the man. He was just loathe to discuss Danni because he had no clarity regarding his ex on any level.
Thankfully, Gomez asked a generic question. “How’ve you been, Fox?”
“Can’t complain. Investigators always have job security.”
