Description: 9780345517692 excerpt Frank / FORBIDDEN CHAPTER ONE Saugerties, N.Y. Docia huffed out a frustrated sound as she just missed spilling coffee on the tops of her shoes, jumping out of the way of the car that careened close to the curb she had been about to step off of. It was a miracle she didn''t get killed, kept most of her coffee in her cup, and managed to keep her cellphone from hitting the pavement. "Hello? Jackson?" she said quickly. "I didn''t hear that last part." "Nothing important, Sissy. Just bitching about Landon. I think I''m going to jail for murder soon." "Nah, you can''t do that," she countered. "You know what they do to cops in prison?" "Ah, crap. You''re right. I''m totally fucked." Docia bit her lips, trying not to laugh. Despite his play at humor, she could tell her brother was seriously put out. Seriously off his game, too. He had been ever since his partner, Chico, had taken a bullet to the brain six months ago. Jackson was grieving in his own way, and that way seemed to be one of a lot less patience for a micromanaging boss than he would usually have. Unfortunately, Landon wasn''t a touchy-feely type who would understand Jackson popping off and punching him in the head. It was crucial she help her brother refocus a little. "So, how''s Sargent doing?" Jackson paused. "He''s undisciplined and a pain in my ass. He keeps running away." "Yikes." That wasn''t good. If Jackson couldn''t control Sargent, that could mean a lot more trouble down the line. But her brother had a special touch with these K-9 pups. No dog would ever be able to replace Chico in Jackson''s heart, but Docia believed there was room for him to move over and share. The trouble was, Jackson might not be ready to think the same way. It was probably too soon for him to have the new dog. He should have waited. Given it more time. But as one of only two K-9 officers in the Saugerties Police Department, he didn''t have the luxury of waiting too long to replace a downed officer. Especially considering how much time, money, and effort went into training a dog. The department needed the dog badly, and they needed him to be well trained. They also knew that Jackson was the best man to do it. "Well, you''ll get him under control," she said, not a hint of doubt in her mind. "He''s only a year old." "Yeah, well, at a year I had Chico heeling with a snap." "Yes," she said, stepping off the curb once more, "but he''s not Chico, honey. It''s not fair to him to expect him to be. You''ve only had him for a short time." Again there were those beats of silence. Docia could almost see him nodding firmly to himself in agreement. Jackson was logical, dedicated, and very ambitious. It wasn''t in him to accept defeat. He just had to get his heart in the game. "I know," Jackson said simply, but making it clear by his tone that he had heard his sister''s wisdom. "So where are you?" Docia smiled at the turn of topic. He needed a little space now, and she would give it to him. She was just happy that he was talking it out with her. He''d been in a very dark place when Chico died. Some people huffed and called him "just a dog," but Chico was every inch the partner a human might have been for Jackson. Almost none of those scoffers were his fellow cops. They all respected Chico for the officer he had been. Even the irritating chief Avery Landon. "Well, I just passed Kiss My Feet not too long ago, which reminds me that it''s been far too long since I had a pedicure. Or a waxing." "Okay, that''s a need to know, Sissy. And I didn''t need to know." "Pfft," she huffed. "Like you don''t like a girl with all her"--she used her coffee-filled hand to gesture in a circle over the front of her body as if he could see her--"landscaping trimmed." "I''m not talking about my sister''s landscaping!" he choked out. "Wuss." "Brat!" She punched a button, chuckling as she hung up on him. She loved leaving him flustered like that. It amused the bejeezus out of her. Well, he''d wanted the change of topic. So he had gotten exactly that. She stuffed her phone in her bag, a cute little pink-and-gray pouch she''d seen at a local resurrection boutique. That was what she liked to call thrift and secondhand stores. Only in her dreams could she own a brand-new designer bag. No one noticed the slightly worn edge on the bottom, and it looked darling with her winter jacket and its faux fur-lined hood. She would wear the set the entire winter because she couldn''t afford to change it up, but she was perfectly content with what she had and didn''t waste time and worries on what she didn''t have. Although she didn''t have much time to worry about anything at all lately. She studiously kept her eyes forward as she walked past Krause''s Candy. The red-and-white-striped decorations on the columns were just screaming at her, begging her to press her nose against the glass and pretend she could smell all those pounds of delicious chocolate. But she persevered. She was late enough as it was. She had a tiny little office to get to and a grouchy boss of her own to deal with if she showed up late. After a few minutes she was stepping onto the green steel bridge, its concrete retaining walls set about waist level, safe enough but also low enough to allow her to see the water of the Esopus River as it rushed to empty and join with the larger and more majestic Hudson River. The current was stronger than usual for this time of year because they were having such unseasonably warm weather for winter . . . if you could call forty-three degrees warm. But it wasn''t freezing, so the Hudson on her left didn''t have so much as a single ice patch, and the river beneath her feet wasn''t slowed down in the least as it journeyed a short distance before smashing down over deceptively warm-looking tan-and-gray boulders. It was nothing compared with what it would be in the summer, though. The rushing rampage of water would spit out at a violent velocity that would have much more in common with a volcano venting in an angry upheaval. She was romanticizing and daydreaming, she realized, picking up her pace over the bridge. The bridge itself was a throwback from a time when automobiles rushing around the curve that led onto it weren''t capable of great speed and drivers wouldn''t disrespect signs and logic and take the turn and narrow bridge a bit too dangerously. That equation hardly left room for even a pedestrian to make it safely across. However, it was the only way for her to get to work, seeing as how her clunky little Volvo had choked to a halt last week and refused to budge without a new alternator. That was a hearty two hundred and fifty bucks she wouldn''t have until her paycheck made its appearance on Friday. Happily, that was only a day away. "Bad Boys," the theme to the TV show Cops, burst to musical life in her purse just a few steps shy of the bridge''s midpoint. Docia expertly snatched the cell from the depths of the little bag and put it to her ear. "I thought I skeeved you out talking about my landscaping," she said, stifling a giggle when the reminder made Jackson stutter over his next words. "You--you did. Just don''t talk about it anymore. Not this early in the damn day. Actually, scratch that. Not ever in the damn day." "Did you just call me back to order me around or is there a point to this call?" "I''m serious, Sissy! Promise me you won''t mention it again." "I''m hanging up on you," she threatened. "You''re being a child," he groused. Docia snickered through her nose and had a perfect comeback for that. She really did. But as she caught sight of the huge SUV barreling toward her on her side of the bridge, a shower of sparks pluming up as it laved the wall like a lover running his tongue up his partner''s neck, the juicy retort froze in her throat. She dropped everything. Cup of coffee. Phone. Cute pink-and-gray bag. And somehow she managed to scramble up onto the wall and avoid becoming human hamburger as the SUV ground past her, close enough to catch her skirt and rip it. Close enough for the passenger to lean his bulk out the window, reach out, and shove her hard off the bridge. For a moment there was nothing but air. An instant where she sucked in her breath, a flash of existence where she seemed to float without gravity. That indrawn breath seemed so loud to her own ears and the scream that followed not loud enough. And just before she hit the maw of rocks and water beneath her because the laws of gravity had not been suspended after all, all she could think of was that she hoped the current was running fast enough to sweep her body out of Jackson''s jurisdiction. It was all she had time for before rocks crashed into her head and her back and a rushing swirl of icy water swept her up and slammed her into another set of rocks as though someone had tossed her into some kind of sick demonic machine in the Laundromat, filled with stones and the ultimate cold-water cycle. The pressured water slammed up her nose and clawed across her face, forcing itself into her open, screaming mouth and down her throat. It punched its way into lungs fighting instinctively to resist its invasion. She had never thought inhaling water would hurt so much. And her first instinct, the instinct to scream with the pain, was robbed from her because her lungs were paralyzed with frozen water. Docia disappeared from the world as she knew it very shortly after that. "Hello? . . .

Please Wait