Terminal 9

by Patricia H. Rushford

  Besides, he didn’t like the idea of having Dana as his partner in another way. He had been hoping to date her again, but anything other than a working relationship at this point was not a good idea. They had dated for a while in college until they went their separate ways. He’d run into her a few months ago while working on another case, and their friendship had solidified again.

  Mac was slipping his shoulder holster back on when the phone rang. He checked his weapon out of habit to ensure it was loaded before stuffing the handgun back in the holster under his left arm. Mac reached over the counter and grabbed the phone.

  “This is Mac.”

  “Mac, hey. Dana here. Got your page.”

  “We have a death out in St. Helens. It sounds like there might be some odd circumstances, since the D.A. wants us to check it out.

  Sarge is sending us out to work the scene.”

  “What happened?”

  “Guy got hit by a train. Are you available?”

  “Sure. I need to run by the house and grab my gear and my work car. I can be at the office in thirty.”

  “Want me to pick you up at your place? It’s on my way.”

  “No—uh, the office is fine. I’ll see you there.”

  Mac set the receiver back in the cradle. “Why not your house?” he grumbled to himself as he walked back to the bedroom to exchange his dress shoes for a pair of hiking shoes. He left the coat and tie on the sofa, selecting a rain jacket with a fleece liner from the hall closet. Mac then grabbed his keys off the counter and opened the front door, startling himself and the delivery boy who was standing in the entryway.

  “Your order, Mr. Mac.” The young Asian held up a bag to eye level.

  “Sorry, I almost ran out on you. Got a call to go back to work.” Mac pulled a twenty from his wallet and handed it to the teenager. “Keep the change.” After taking a deep whiff of the tantalizing food, he hurried back to the kitchen and stuffed the bags into the refrigerator. “Should make a good breakfast.”

  As he locked the front door and headed for his duty car, an unmarked white Crown Victoria, Mac’s frustration at missing dinner and the game melted into anticipation. He wondered what they’d find at the scene and why the district attorney felt compelled to call in the State Police detectives. An old guy, Sarge had said, hit by a train. Mac slid in behind the wheel. He couldn’t say why, but something told him this wasn’t going to be as simple as Sergeant Frank Evans made it sound.

  THREE

  MAC PLLLED IN TO THE BACK LOT of the SE Portland office shortly before 7:00 p.m. The slow security gate opened wide enough for his car, and he parked next to the building’s back entrance. Dana’s unmarked blue Pontiac Grand Am was already in the office lot with its trunk open. Dana leaned inside to collect her gear.

  Mac pulled up alongside and rolled down his window. “Going my way?”

  “ ’Fraid so,” Dana answered without looking up. She slipped her blue crime scene windbreaker over a white blouse, sweater vest, and suit jacket that went with her black dress slacks and sturdy black shoes.

  “You don’t have to sound so happy about it,” Mac complained, feeling put off.

  She rolled her eyes at him. “Give me a break. You know what I mean.”

  “I have everything we’ll need. Just grab your notebook and let’s get a move on.” Mac glanced over at the dash clock on the car, then back at his watch to press his point.

  “I’m not worried about the gear. This stupid gun is so uncomfortable with slacks.” Dana held up her Glock pistol, which was still tucked inside a black leather holster. “They really don’t make comfortable plain clothes duty gear for women.”

  “Sorry.” Dana looked great to him, though black and white didn’t suit her near as well as some of the other colors he’d seen her in, like that soft pink cashmere sweater she’d worn when they’d had dinner together a couple of months ago. Unfortunately that dinner had been the end of anything romantic and the beginning of their business-only routine.

  Mac wasn’t really into hearing about women’s clothing. And since when did detectives call their guns stupid? Still, he tried to look sympathetic. “I don’t think we have time to go shopping for something else right now.”

  “Come on, Mac. Cut me some slack,” she grumped. “I’m looking for my fanny pack so I can give my ribs a break. The thumb brake on this department-issue holster is killing my ribs.”

  Mac could empathize. The thumb brake sat at the top of the gun sight, four to six inches above the belt line, and dug into the ribcage. “You’ll get used to it.” Mac thumbed the steering wheel impatiently with his fingers.

  “Here it is.” Dana waved her black leather fanny pack, then secured her gun inside the large zipper pouch. She closed the trunk and jogged around to the passenger side of Mac’s vehicle.

  Trying to keep his impatience under wraps, Mac kept his mouth shut while he maneuvered onto the street. “Why didn’t you want me to pick you up at your place?” Mac finally asked, trying to sound like he was just making light conversation. “It was on the way.” And wecould have saved at least twenty minutes. He thought it best not to add the last part.

  Dana sighed and stared out the windshield. At first Mac thought she wasn’t going to answer. “Impressions, Mac. I don’t want anyone thinking I got this job for any reason other than that I was qualified and I deserved it.”

  Mac shook his head. “No one has ever indicated that you didn’t earn your way into the detective slot. I certainly don’t think that.”

  “I know.” Dana turned in the seat, her dimples deepening with a smile. “At least you better not. Maybe I’m being a little too cautious, but it’s different when you’re a woman. I can’t explain it. I’m trying to fill Kevin’s shoes while he’s out sick, and that’s an uphill battle alone.”

  “I don’t know about that.” Mac frowned, choosing his words carefully. “I think . . .”

  “I said that wrong.” Dana paused. “I could never fill Kevin Bledsoe’s shoes. What I meant is that I know I’m getting this chance because he’s sick and is working light duty. I hope Kevin kicks his cancer, but I’m not going to waste the opportunity to prove myself. I’m sure not going to put up with any office gossip, even though it would be totally unfounded.”

  Mac bit into his lower lip. Unfounded? She was right about that, but her being right didn’t stop him from wishing otherwise.

  “That’s why I don’t want to give anyone anything to raise their eyebrows at—like seeing you come or go from my apartment. Can you understand where I’m coming from?”

  “Sure, I guess so.” He doubted there’d be a problem. Still, Mac respected Dana, and if she felt she needed to distance herself from him for appearance’s sake, he could accept that. He just didn’t like it. “I feel like there’s a double standard, though. No one would give it a second thought if I picked Kevin up.”

  “Kevin is a man. I’m a woman. There’s a difference, in case you haven’t noticed.”

  “No kidding.” Mac chuckled.

  “And there are double standards—even if there shouldn’t be. Women are still scarce in this agency.”

  DANA HAD ALMOST C ALLED MAC BACK to pick her up at her apartment instead of the office, knowing it would be faster and closer for them. But she loved her job too much to risk it. Maybe if it had been anyone but Mac, she wouldn’t have given it a thought either.

  With Mac, she had to go out of her way to avoid the appearance of anything more than friendship. It would be far too easy to fall back into the kind of relationship she’d had with Mac before. They’d dated back in college, and if she were completely honest with herself, she’d admit her feelings for him were even stronger now than they’d been back then. Sadly, their lives had taken separate paths. She’d been thrilled when they’d met up again some months ago when Mac began his first homicide case as a detective with the Megan Tyson murder.

  Maybe someday there would be an opportunity for them, but not now. Not with both of them so new to
the detective arena. Not with walls that have eyes and ears and fellow workers who already teased her and Mac about being more than partners.

  “There are several female detectives in our outfit,” Mac said. “I’ll bet they wouldn’t worry about whether their male partners picked them up. Take Jan Adams in the arson section. She’s top notch; nobody ever gives her any flak.”

  Dana nodded. “Jan’s been in detectives since you and I were in high school, Mac. I bet she had her share of hurdles too—more than I do. Women are finally being accepted into the good old boys’ group.”

  “I don’t know. I can’t imagine anyone messing with Jan; she’s like your grandmother and Dirty Harry combined. I don’t know how someone so sweet could be so tough at the same time.”

  Dana laughed. “I’ll ask her for you tomorrow and tell her how much you admire her.”

  “What?”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll leave the Dirty Harry reference out. Though personally, I think that’s the best part.”

  “You’re meeting with Jan? Why?” Mac glanced over at Dana. His eyes held a hint of concern and hurt. He’d been mentoring her and doing a pretty decent job, but she needed a woman’s perspective.

  “Jan and I are meeting for lunch. I wanted to go over a few things. Sergeant Evans suggested it—mainly so we can get to know each other. If nothing else, maybe she can help me shop for some functional detective clothes that look halfway decent.”

  “What about me? I’m your partner,” Mac asked jokingly. “Why not let me help spend your clothing allowance?”

  “You mean the eight hundred dollars the department gives us to buy two years’ worth of professional attire?”

  “What? Isn’t that enough for you?”

  “I can spend that much on shoes alone.” She lifted her foot and inspected her thick-heeled shoe. “Have you shopped for women’s clothes lately?”

  “Can’t say that I have.”

  “Mac.” Dana turned serious. “We talked about our relationship when I made detective and you said you were okay with being friends and nothing more. I know you haven’t asked me out or anything since then, but I’m still sensing this thing from you—I don’t know . . .”

  “Attraction?”

  “Hmm.” She ran her hand along the seat belt. Unfortunately, she felt more than an attraction for him.

  “It’s not something I can turn off. I’m sorry if I’m making you feel uncomfortable.”

  “I’m sorry too, Mac. For now, we can’t . . .”

  “Don’t worry about it. Just so you know, I am not sitting around waiting for you to change your mind. I’m moving on.”

  “You are?” That wasn’t what Dana wanted to hear. She wished she’d kept her mouth shut. She hated the thought of Mac dating anyone. She even felt jealous when women gave him admiring looks. But she’d made a decision and needed to stick with it. He was moving on? Fine. She could live with that. She needed to start dating as well. Maybe she’d take Jonathan Carter up on his offer. The attorney she’d met two weeks ago had called twice asking her out. Each time she’d made an excuse. If he called again maybe . . .

  MAC PICKED UP THE RADIO MIC. “Station twenty from eleven-fifty-four.” He’d had enough of the conversation and with the relationship that was going nowhere. Dana’s rejection stung, and the more he thought about her determination not to get involved with him, the more upset he became.

  Best to move on, he told himself. He’d lied in a way. He wasn’t dating anyone yet. Maybe he’d have to change that. There was this cute gal in his apartment complex who had hinted more than once about getting together. And there was Kristen Thorpe. Doc Thorpe did a lot of teasing, but Mac bet she’d take him up on dinner or a movie if he asked. He just wasn’t sure he could handle her quirky personality. She was attractive enough if you could get beyond the purple spiked hair and the fact that she worked on corpses and liked her job.

  “Eleven-fifty-four,” the dispatcher acknowledged Mac’s radio number.

  “Eleven-fifty-four, I’ll be twelve-thirty-eight to channel fifteen.” He changed his radio channel from the Portland Metro frequency to channel fifteen, the rural Columbia County channel as he started west on Highway 30. On that channel, he could monitor the play-by-play as the uniformed officers worked the scene. “I have eleven-fifty-eight riding with me to the call if I didn’t advise earlier. Any updates?”

  “Negative, fifty-four. The only information I have is that Dr. Thorpe is on scene and awaiting your arrival.”

  “Thanks.” Mac signed off without further comment and noticed Dana’s questioning look.

  “Dr. Thorpe? For being the state’s head medical examiner, she sure takes her share of cases.”

  “She likes to be on the front lines.”

  “She likes to be with you.”

  “Don’t go there, Dana,” Mac warned.

  “Why, Mac. You’re blushing.”

  “It’s warm in here.”

  “Sure it is.” Dana leaned back into the seat, arms folded. If Mac didn’t know better, he’d say she was jealous.

  “What if I was dating Kristen?” He glanced over at Dana again.

  “Would that be so bad?”

  “Not at all. I think she has feelings for you.”

  Mac shook his head and turned his attention back to the radio. There wasn’t much chatter at the moment, just a trooper working traffic along the highway. Mac and Dana passed the trooper calling in the stop near Scappoose. Mac slowed to make sure he didn’t need any assistance.

  The trooper never broke eye contact with the suspect vehicle as he gave a code four, an all-clear signal, by raising four fingers on one hand.

  “You miss the uniform yet?” Mac asked wanting to move their conversation to safer ground.

  “No way. The pants never fit right—once again, men’s clothing. No more shift work and court on your days off. I like this detective job just fine, thank you very much.”

  “Yeah, me too.”

  They continued west to the town of St. Helens, then north toward the Columbia River and Terminal 9. As they approached, the lights from the terminal turned the dark March evening into daylight.

  Dana squinted. “Those lights should make this case a little easier to work. Hopefully the scene isn’t too big.”

  Mac agreed. “Have you ever worked a train accident?”

  “Not personally, but I understand the body can be spread out over a pretty long stretch of track. I have a hunch this won’t be pretty.”

  At the opening to the rail yard, Mac rolled down his window and stopped for a uniformed officer from the city police department. “Detectives McAllister and Bennett from OSP.”

  “Right. The D.A. said you’d be coming. Just head north toward the river.”

  “Thanks.” Mac drove over at least a dozen tracks, lined with thousands of yards of gravel and crushed asphalt, as he maneuvered through the terminal.

  “I hope this is the right way. Those floodlights are blinding me.” Mac shaded his eyes with his hand.

  “Over there, by that gold and black train engine.” Dana pointed to the right.

  Mac nodded and steered toward three black and whites, parked alongside a single rail track that seemed to lead directly to the river. He recognized Kristen Thorpe’s Dodge pickup among the patrol cars, backed toward the nose portion of the diesel train engine. Doc Thorpe may have been the head medical examiner, but she worked every bit as hard as the deputy medical examiners under her. Maybe harder.

  Kristen gave Mac a nod and her somber face broke into a broad smile. Dana looked at her and then Mac. “See, I was right. Kristen has a thing for you.”

  “Enough. You’re beginning to sound like a teenager.” Mac gave her a scalding look that said this was neither the time nor the place.

  “Come on, Mac, lighten up.”

  He sighed. “I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, the woman isn’t my type. I like women with . . . normal hair.”

  “Since when did you get so s
uperficial?”

  “I’m not.”When he looked back at the woman in question, she had turned her attention to the older man who was dressed in a dark suit with no tie. Mac recognized him as the Columbia County district attorney, Darren Volk.

  Mac parked and checked out on the radio with dispatch. Since detectives rarely carried portable radios, he advised that he would be available on his mobile phone if needed.

  “You ready for this one, partner?” Mac asked, looking over at Dana. “I’ve never been to a train accident either, but I can imagine what we’re about to see.”

  All hint of teasing gone now, Dana exhaled, rubbing her hands down her thighs to her knees in a nervous gesture. “Can’t be any worse than that sawmill murder. Let’s go.”

  Mac thought about Kevin asking him a similar question when they were just starting out together. He remembered how Kevin would always start out a new investigation with a prayer. Mac actually considered doing the same, but the prayer would be silent and terse. He was nowhere near the man of God that Kevin was—didn’t know if he ever would be. Mac wished Kevin was with them now. Not that he didn’t like being partnered with Dana; he did. But in a crime scene investigation, Mac couldn’t be the kind of mentor to Dana that Kevin had been to him. Kevin seemed to have all the answers, and Mac, though gaining more experience all the time, still felt somewhat insecure.

  Kevin had covered a lot of ground with Mac, but you could never encounter every possible situation. You can’t be what you’re not,partner. Mac could almost hear his partner chastising him. Just doyour best.

  He would. Even though this was reported to be an accident, Mac planned to do it “by the numbers,” as Kevin would say.