Kate was on the other side of the room. Everything else going on slid into the background.
She looked furious.
That realization stunned him. He had been braced for hurt; prepared, if she wasn’t hurt, to see rigid control hiding her thoughts. He hadn’t antici-pated seeing emotions full blown. Halfway across the room he could feel the emotions shimmering off of her. She sizzled. With her arms crossed, attention on her boss, she paced in three feet of open real estate like a caged tiger.
She hadn’t seen him yet, and he was momentarily glad for that.
Stephen came up behind him, carrying a cup of hot coffee.
“There was a package delivered, left leaning against her front door,” Stephen told him quietly. “We had gone to dinner at the Italian place around the corner; I walked her home. The florist box was leaning against the door. I reached for it, and Kate slammed me onto my back by instinct, nearly gave me a concussion.”
“What was in it?”
“A black rose. Her friend is back.”
Kate looked over and saw him before he could follow up on Stephen’s last comment. Dave watched her expression change, harden, then clear. He buried a sigh. So much for wondering how she would react to seeing him here.
He moved past Graham to join her. “Kate.”
“Dave.” She didn’t look pleased to see him, but he tried not to take it personally. This place had become Grand Central Station, a fact that had to be frustrating for her. She needed some space. As a cop, that would be even more true than for someone else. For the same reason she would sit in a restaurant with her back to the wall to keep people in front of her, she would be looking for space around her now.
Her boss closed his notebook. “The lab will put a rush on this. We should hear from the Indiana PD in a couple hours, find out if your friend has indeed managed to slip out of his supervised release. In the meantime, patrols are shifted for the night.”
“He won’t be back tonight. His MO looks the same, down to the ribbon used on the gift.”
“Assuming it’s him,” Jim replied. “We should know something by midnight anyway.” He lightly squeezed her shoulder. “At least this time it wasn’t a gift-wrapped snake.”
Kate chuckled softly. “Hey, I’ve got first class admirers.”
It took about fifteen minutes for the cops and technicians to finish work, pack up their cases. Dave stayed out of their way, watching Stephen and Kate. Stephen was good with her, able to distract her. Or rather she let him distract her, Dave amended. The apartment door closed, leaving just the three of them.
Kate was looking around her apartment, looking unexpectedly lost. Dave crossed the room and placed his hand on her shoulder, felt the tremor. She was still so angry she was quivering.
“Go get your keys. We’ll take a walk,” he said calmly.
“It’s going to rain.”
“The forecast was wrong, and even if it did rain, it would just cool off that temper.” He chuckled at the look she shot him. “Don’t argue, Kate; you’ll regret it in the morning.” He turned her toward the bedroom. “Better yet, find a hat. It’s windy.”
She must have bitten her tongue not to argue, but she stalked away toward her bedroom.
“Kate following orders without a debate, that has got to be a first,” Stephen commented after Kate’s door closed. “Thanks. I’ll get this place put back together while you’re gone.”
“You sure?”
“Once the fingerprint dust is gone from the front door and all the windows they checked, it won’t look quite so invaded.”
Dave agreed with him. “Sounds like a plan. Now tell me about this friend that likes to leave black roses.”
“Bobby Tersh. Five years ago, Kate talked him out of ending his life. He fixated on her when he got out of the hospital a couple weeks later; it escalated through phone calls to the office, gifts, then took a nasty turn when he felt ignored and disintegrated into threats and to black roses being left on her car, and finally at her doorstep. He was eventually committed to a hospital in Indiana by his family. He’s been out of the hospital about a year now on supervised release. This is the first indication there might be trouble again.”
“Any history of violence in his background?” Dave asked, wishing he had access to the files. Maybe Jim would help him out there.
“No, just words, not that it necessarily means anything. And we’re guessing that it is him.”
Dave had already factored that in. “Okay.”
They heard Kate’s door open. She had changed into a gray sweatshirt with a hood. She looked calmer to the extent it was possible to read her.
“Stephen, we won’t be gone long. Don’t answer the phone; let the machine get it,” Kate said, checking her pockets, avoiding looking at Dave.
Stephen crossed over to her and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “Get out of here. You don’t want to see how I clean your place.”
“Thanks.”
Dave closed the front door behind them and scanned the street before walking down the steps, alert to anything out of place. It looked normal and quiet, but that didn’t mean much. “Which way?”
“North.”
He fell into step beside her, not bothered by the silence.
“I’ve had black roses before,” she finally said.
“Stephen told me.”
“If his MO holds, I won’t receive another one for weeks.”
She was looking for an excuse to make that assumption; stupid of her, but he wasn’t about to argue the point. “Okay.”
Kate didn’t say anything else. Dave eventually decided she had brooded long enough and changed the subject. “Did you hear about the Cubs game this afternoon?”
“What?”
“The baseball game. It was a perfect game through the eighth inning.”
She stopped walking to look at him incredulously. “No comments about that scene back there? No advice?”
“What do you need to know that you haven’t already heard?” he asked quietly.
She scowled.
“You just want someone to fight with so you can blow off steam,” he said calmly. “Sorry, you’ll have to settle for walking it off.”
“Thanks a lot.”
“My pleasure.”
“You are so annoying.” She sighed. “Tell me about the game.”
Twenty minutes into the walk, Dave reached out and took her hand. Her fingers were cold, and he grasped them reassuringly. It didn’t matter what anyone said, or that this situation was one of the realities that came with the job; it was her home that had been invaded. She had needed a night to relax and instead was being thrust back into a situation that must have been a nightmare. He could tell the memories were back by the shuttered weariness in her face and the fact she had responded with so much emotion—it had been anger, but it had been prompted by fear. And there was nothing he could do to make this go away. He hated not being able to help. He talked about the game, his visit with Sara and Adam, plans for the summer, anything but his work or hers.
“You’re not that bad at making small talk,” she commented.
He took it as a special compliment. “I spent a few hours listening to you.”
She rolled her shoulders, and he saw the tension in her finally drain away. “It was a miserable day. I didn’t need this on top of it.”
“At least you didn’t give Stephen a concussion. He would have been giving you grief about that for months.”
“Months? It would have entered family lore.” She shook her head. “You can’t imagine the fear that hit when I saw him reach toward that package. I didn’t even realize I had recognized it; I just reacted.”
Having more than once taken his sister Sara to the ground in reaction to a threat, Dave knew exactly what that fear tasted like. It was much more powerful than facing a threat to yourself. “I know what that fear is like,” he replied but didn’t elaborate.
“It makes me furious. Someone wants to come after me,
fine, but don’t mess with my family. I saw Stephen reach for that package, and I had a sudden nasty image of a paramedic suddenly missing a hand.” She visibly shuddered at the thought.
“Let it go, Kate. Stephen’s fine. It was a false alarm. The adrenaline will eventually fade.”
“Yeah.”
She pushed her hands into her pockets, walked some more. “You will conveniently forget the fact you saw me lose my temper.”
“Why? You’re adorable mad.”
“Dave—”
He held up his hands. “It’s forgotten.”
“Thank you. Now, why did you come over?”
She didn’t want to talk about what had happened. He tried not to let his disappointment show. She deserved her privacy, but he had hoped they were on level enough ground as friends she would let him help her out. He would like to repay the debt he owed her.
Because he had no real choice, he let her change the subject. “I’ve got the preliminary bank report on Henry Lott’s mortgage for you.”
She pulled her hand out of her pocket to run it through her hair. “I had actually forgotten that case for a couple hours. Thanks for bringing it over.”
“It was an excuse to see you.”
She sneaked a glance at him, gave a small smile. “It’s a pretty lame one.”
“True.” That smile cushioned her change of subject. He relaxed. She’d learn to share eventually; he’d be around until she realized it.
They had been walking for about forty minutes, had circled back around to her block again. “Stephen should be about done,” he commented.
“Yes. Are you coming in?”
He wanted to, but she looked exhausted now under that contained front. “No. You need a hot shower and some sleep, not company.”
“You just want to go meddle in this case, too.”
He didn’t bother to contradict her, just smiled. “Go on. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
“The Indiana PD have no leads on Bobby Tersh?” Dave asked, following Graham through the basement concrete hallways in the county building back to the emergency response group offices.
“He hasn’t reported in to his release supervisor in five days; he hasn’t been at his job in three. Officers interviewing the family reported they were very cooperative but had little to suggest. They haven’t heard from Bobby either.”
The steel door at the end of the hallway was locked and electronically coded. Graham paused to punch his code, then held open the heavy door for Dave. The quiet and coolness of the hallway disappeared in an assault of sound. The long open room was packed with desks and people. It was a stark contrast to the FBI offices where they had the luxury of individual offices and group conference rooms.
Dave scanned the room, disappointed not to see Kate. Maybe it was for the best. She might not appreciate having the FBI step across jurisdictions. He had called her boss late last night, and hadn’t even needed to explain his credentials as a reason for why he was asking to take a look at the files. Her boss had granted his request and sounded relieved to do it. Dave knew that meant Jim was short handed or worried about the possible threat to one of his officers—probably both.
“Debbie, have those files on Tersh arrived from archives?” Graham asked.
The secretary working the phones paused the phone conversation she was on and pointed with her red pen to the cart on wheels pushed against a three-drawer file cabinet with a sprawling fern. They had tried to improvise greenhouse lights for the plant, but the fern still looked sick for lack of sunlight.
“Trust something to archives? That disaster waiting to happen? They are two years behind schedule to move and consolidate that warehouse, and it shows. I used my discretion and kept Tersh classified as an active file. It’s the two-inch blue file on the left. I pulled it when I got in this morning and heard what had happened.”
“What would we do without you?”
“Suffer the wrath of the system,” Debbie replied with a smile. “Do you want me to pull her threat file, too?”
“You’d better,” Graham picked up the Tersh file, leafed through it, then turned back to Debbie. “Three years ago, last name Edmond? If that’s not in the threat file, pull it.”
“Dead cat,” Debbie said darkly. “It’s there.”
Graham indicated his desk halfway into the room, and Dave followed him to it. “Kate has a cat?”
Graham took a seat and glanced back up at him. “Not anymore.” He gestured to a chair where a jacket and a briefcase were balanced. “Just put the stuff somewhere. Sorry, we’re a little chaotic down here still. They haven’t installed the lockers they promised us months ago.”
Dave moved the jacket and briefcase, then settled down into a chair that was at least comfortable.
“Jim said to give you access to anything we had. I have to tell you, I don’t like the idea of someone going after Kate again. Last year turned into a nightmare for her.”
“That bad?”
“Kate is hard to read how something is affecting her, but by the end of the year you could see she was paying the price. She didn’t want someone else in her building getting hurt if Tersh became confrontational.”
“A case where the courts couldn’t do anything.”
“The DA tried, but it was hard to get more than a slap on the hands, and that wasn’t going to do the trick. When Tersh’s family committed him, you could see Kate’s relief. If it had gone on much longer, she wouldn’t have been able to stop her brothers from intervening.”
Graham scanned pages. “It’s going to be hard finding the guy if he’s somewhere back in Chicago. He worked as a transit mechanic, knew the city very well.” Graham handed over the file. “The initial report from Kate’s intervention is in there, along with excerpts from that conversation. It was taped, so a full transcript is available, just ask Debbie for it. The rest of the files are the various incident reports regarding the gifts and calls.”
Debbie joined them carrying two folders stuffed so full they were spilling over. “Kate’s threat file.” She handed it to Graham. “Anything else you need, just ask.”
Dave was stunned at the size of it. “How many years does that encompass?”
“Two? Three? Most all of it is mail. She spends hours with people, they get sent to jail, and they think they know her, so they write—a lot. There is not much else to do in prison.”
“And she’s the type of lady that would stick in a guy’s mind,” Dave observed. She was too pretty, had too striking of a voice. He sighed just thinking about it.
“Exactly.”
“Who else could this be besides Tersh?”
“At a guess, there are probably another six serious contenders in this stack.”
“Where is Kate?”
“I haven’t seen her this morning.” Graham leaned back to see around him. “No gym bag sticking halfway out into the aisle, so she probably got paged while she was at the gym.”
“She’s a busy lady.”
“Popular. They call her into situations earlier than they used to.”
Graham picked up his phone to check the blinking message light. When he hung up a few moments later, he gestured to the files.
“Are you okay with going through this information on your own? I’m due over at the ATF office to talk about Henry’s package. It will probably take me an hour.”
“There’s at least an hour of reading here before I’m ready to start asking questions,” Dave agreed.
Graham’s pager and two others in the room went off. “Change that,” Graham glanced at his pager. “I’ll be back whenever. Come on, Olsen.”
“Can I drive?”
“Can you remember which streets are one-way?”
“It was an honest mistake.”
“Sure it was.”
The noise in the room dropped off as the guys headed out. Dave glanced at the open folder in his lap. Before he assumed it was Tersh as the others had, it would be better to know what they did regarding the other th
reats that had been made. He set the Tersh file on the desk and reached for the first of the threat files.
He looked up the Edmond case as a place to start.
Kate’s cat had been shot through her living room window at 5:16 A.M. on a snowy winter day. Walter Edmond had eventually been charged with firearm violations, vandalism, and cruelty to animals. A cat. There was something more than just maliciousness at work when someone killed a pet. Walter’s beef with Kate was over the fact she had talked his girlfriend into filing battery charges after he broke her arm. The sentence was not long enough given the threat Edmond represented.
Dave added the name to the list of individuals to check out. He picked up the next item in the file.
Kate, I wanted a chance to get to know you, but not like this. I didn’t need more reasons to worry. And why didn’t you ever get yourself another cat? You let him win.
“You like to stay out late,” Dave said quietly, burying his emotions.
Kate whirled around on him. “Are you trying to get yourself killed?”
He stepped out of the shadows, not liking at all the fact he had been able to surprise her. He had been waiting for Kate to get home since 7 P.M., growing more concerned the later the hour became. The call she had been on had cleared shortly after six; he had heard Debbie take the call that Kate would not be back to the office. Kate was supposed to be going home, and he had left the station to meet her. And he had waited, wondering where she was and what was wrong. The only good thing the time had done was give him an opportunity to see the number of patrols passing by. He had spoken to several of them. Given the news he had received today, he was grateful to see them. “You assumed you would have time to react. You’re a better cop than that, Kate.”
“Go away. It’s been a horrible day.” She turned back to the door.
“Hold it. Give me your keys.”
“I can check my own home.”
“You weren’t even looking around as you walked down the block. Keys, Kate.”
She handed them to him rather than argue the point. He pushed her back when she would have entered the apartment with him. “Dave—”
“Stay there,” he ordered.
The Negotiator Page 7
