by SUE FINEMAN
“I don’t either.”
Charlie came back on the line. “Here’s Jamal.”
The conversation with the second boy went pretty much the same way, except Jamal told Ginny, “The Dogs hang out at The Water’s Edge, that dive down on Water Street.”
“Do you know what time of day I can find them there?”
“They go for dinner nearly every day. After nine or so, they’re out on the street. You won’t tell nobody we talked to you, will you?”
“Absolutely not.” She didn’t want the killers coming after these kids.
As soon as she ended the call, Ginny searched the computer database for Scooby. His name popped up right away. He was a nineteen-year-old who’d been in and out of Juvie since he was twelve. He had a tattoo of a dog on his right arm. “Who knew a kid who likes dogs would kill a twelve-year-old.”
Karen pulled up a chair and sat beside her. “You know who the killer is?”
“I have three names and the place they hang out. This one’s street name is Scooby.”
“Like the cartoon dog?”
Ginny nodded. She printed the guy’s file and put it aside, then searched for Snoopy. After a few seconds, his picture popped up on the screen. He was twenty-three and also had a tattoo of a dog on his right arm. Snoopy had spent some time in prison for drug dealing and attempted murder. “And he’s out already?” she muttered.
She couldn’t come up with a picture of Underdog, but she suspected he also had a dog tattoo on his right arm. Ginny had always loved dogs, but these three could give the dogs of River Valley a bad name.
By the time the captain showed up with Al and Mark, Ginny had blown up the pictures of Snoopy and Scooby and hung them on the wall. She pointed to the pictures. “My sources tell me the murdered boy was going to meet with three men to buy heroin for his mother, but he was planning to hold back some of the money to buy milk and diapers.”
“What sources?” the captain asked.
Ginny shook her head. She wasn’t about to tell anyone where she’d gotten the information. Bad enough to have one murdered kid. She didn’t want to see two more boys lying dead on the sidewalk.
“Either reveal your sources or go on suspension.”
Livid that he’d treat her like this instead of praising her for coming up with the information, Ginny picked up her coat and walked toward the door. She turned back to say, “There’s one more, someone they call Underdog, and they all hang out down on Water Street, at The Water’s Edge.”
“Where did you get this information, Princess?” Mark asked.
She shook her head.
“Spill it,” said Al.
“Not gonna happen,” said Karen. “You know Ginny always protects her sources.”
Captain Pierson scowled. “She’ll tell me or she won’t work for me anymore.”
Ginny’s job wasn’t worth risking the lives of those two boys. She opened the door. “Dinner time. The Water’s Edge. They’re on the street after nine or so. If you find them, look for dog tattoos on their right arms. I couldn’t find a picture of Underdog, but I suspect he also has a dog tattoo.”
The captain barked the words, “We’re not going in there until I know the source of the information.”
Ginny walked out the door and pulled it closed behind her. She half expected the captain to send someone after her, but he didn’t. He’d been looking for an excuse to get rid of her, and now he had one.
Funny how he never demanded to know the identity of Mark’s sources. Or Al’s.
He probably thought the information came from Steffen Marchand, and Captain Pierson didn’t believe in psychics.
The captain didn’t believe women made good detectives either.
<>
Mid-afternoon, Steffen sat on the floor in front of the fireplace and tried to clear his mind. Meditation usually worked for him, but although something danced in the periphery of his mind, nothing came through. The pain in his shoulder nagged, interfering with his concentration.
The sun had come out today, melting most of the snow, so he pulled his coat on and walked outside. The tree-lined creek must be pretty in the summer time, but the branches were bare and a cushion of slick leaves covered the ground leading down to the creek. He walked along the narrow lane leading to more cabins, breathing in the cool, clear air. He’d spent so much time in motels and clubs he’d forgotten what it was like to have time to walk and think. It felt good to stretch his legs and breathe the fresh air.
He didn’t go far. Ginny didn’t leave him a key, and he didn’t want to leave her house unlocked and unattended. Back at the house, he sat on the front porch steps and gazed into the distance. Pretty spot, with the creek across the narrow lane. It was easy to see why she bought this place. From the pictures in the album on the coffee table, she’d done a good job on the remodel, too. She took a rundown fishing cabin with an unfinished attic and turned it into a comfortable, open home with two bedrooms, two bathrooms, and a study. Her architect brother helped her with the design, but Steffen knew the concept was Ginny’s. The house reflected her personality.
Boomer crept up the steps beside Steffen, but the cat didn’t touch him, and Steffen didn’t touch the cat. They sat on opposite sides of the same step, together yet separate. “Don’t trust me yet?” he said to the cat.
Boomer didn’t answer.
Ginny drove up but didn’t get out of the car. She had a scowl on her face, making him wonder what had happened at work. Something obviously had or she wouldn’t be home already. It was only four o’clock in the afternoon, and she hadn’t gone to work until nearly ten this morning.
Finally, she got out and slammed the door. Boomer ran around the side of the house.
Without a word to Steffen, Ginny sat beside him on the steps and breathed deeply. He put his hand over hers. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“Maybe later.”
They sat quietly for several minutes before he stood and pulled her to her feet. “It’s cold out here.”
“Thanks, Steffen.”
“For what?”
“For not pushing.”
They walked inside and shed their coats. Steffen turned on the burner under the tea kettle while Ginny played an angry tune on the piano, calling the cat that had just minutes ago run away from her anger.
She was obviously upset about something. Did she have a fight with her captain? Was she involved in the investigation into the murder of the boy found on the sidewalk this morning? If only he could conjure up a vision. But he couldn’t, and he’d have to wait until she wanted to talk to find out what was wrong.
The phone rang, but Ginny kept playing the piano, one angry piece after another. Steffen picked up the kitchen extension.
Donovan asked, “Is she there?”
“She’s here, but… Why is she so upset? What happened today?”
“The captain stepped over the line. He’s now under investigation for inappropriate behavior.”
“Sounds serious.”
“It is. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.” With those words, Donovan hung up.
The tea kettle whistled and Ginny finally stopped pounding on the piano keys. He made the tea and walked into the living room, where Ginny sat at the piano, holding a purring kitty.
“Can I get in on that hug, or is it only for the cat?”
She looked up, and he saw the anguish in her eyes. The anger was gone, for now. She stood and drifted into his arms. He pulled her in for a gentle kiss, then stroked the cat, who’d begun to purr again. “That was your father on the phone. He’s on his way over.”
“I don’t want him involved in this.”
“Maybe he’s coming to give you a little TLC.”
“More likely advice on how to get along with my superiors.”
He hugged her closer. “I made tea, but if I carry the tray into the living room, I might dump it all over the furniture.”
Her mouth curled up a little. “You’re a considerate man, Steffen
.”
“And you’re a lovely woman, Ginny.” Holding her like this reminded him of their kiss over the phone, of the sexual release he’d gotten just by hearing her voice. Before he left this house, he intended to spend at least one night in her bed. But not tonight.
“Tea,” she whispered, and he released her.
He sat on the sofa and she carried the tray into the living room, unlocking the front door and turning on the front porch light on the way. She’d put a third cup on the tray.
“Did you watch the local news today?”
Steffen nodded. “Are you on the case with the murdered kid?”
“I was until the captain put me on suspension.” She poured herself a cup of tea. “Someone told me who the killers were, and I refused to reveal my source of information. He said I couldn’t work for him unless I told him.” She sipped from the cup. “I told him who the killers were, what their street names were, and where and when to find them, but I wouldn’t tell him how I got the information.”
“Wow! Are you psychic?”
Her lips curled in a little smirk. “If I was, it would make my job a whole lot easier.”
Steffen heard a car outside, then Donovan tapped on the door.
Ginny called, “Come on in, Dad.”
Donovan sat on the end of the sectional. “I brought news.”
“Who called you?”
“Karen. She filed a formal complaint with the chief, said she won’t work for a woman-hating captain any longer. The chief wants you in his office first thing in the morning. He has questions about what happened today.”
Ginny shrugged. “Charlie had a couple of upset kids in the gym after school. It seems they knew who killed their friend this morning. They told me where to find the killers and when, but they didn’t want anyone to know they told me. When I told the captain what I knew, he insisted I reveal my sources. And I refused.”
“For whatever it’s worth, I would have done the same thing.”
“He wouldn’t have asked one of the male detectives to reveal their sources, yet he demanded it of me. Why is that? Am I less trustworthy than my male counterparts? Is my information less valuable than theirs?”
Steffen set his cup on the tray. “He probably thought I was your source.”
“I don’t know what he thought, but after seeing that kid’s body on the sidewalk this morning… I’d rather lose my job than risk the lives of two kids who had the courage to tell someone what they knew. As publicity-hungry as the captain is, he’d say something to the press for sure, just to make himself look better.”
“I don’t think that’s an issue any longer,” Donovan said. “Apparently he said some choice things about you after you left the station, things Karen took offense to. She went straight to the chief and filed a formal complaint.”
Ginny sighed deeply. “I don’t want to know what he said. He hates women, me especially. My name is Kane, which is just another four-letter word to him.”
“He’s history,” said Donovan. “Sexual harassment is an absolute no-no. After he gets fired from this job, he won’t get one in another police department anywhere. Nobody puts up with that sexist crap these days.”
After Donovan left, Steffen sat in Ginny’s living room and flexed the fingers on his right hand. His shoulder still hurt, but not as much. His wound was healing. Soon he’d be able to start doing the exercises the doctor had given him. Physical therapy might help, but he didn’t have transportation, and he wasn’t about to ask Ginny to drive him into the city. He’d imposed on her enough just by being here. Once she got this mess straightened out at work, she wouldn’t be around much anyway. Physical therapy, if he needed it, could wait until his beard grew out and he bought a car of his own.
He rubbed the stubble on his chin. His face looked like hell, but he had to let his beard grow. If the shooter figured out where Steffen was, maybe he wouldn’t recognize him with a beard.
“Does your face itch?” Ginny asked.
“Yes, especially my neck. As soon as I can hold my razor in my right hand, I’ll trim it up, shave my neck. Shaving with the wrong hand could be hazardous.”
“It’s a good disguise.” She grinned. “We could dye your hair purple and green, put gaudy earrings in your ears, maybe one in your eyebrow, and—”
“Whoa there. Growing a beard is one thing. I’m not poking more holes in my body.”
She stood, then pulled her shirt up and her pants down a little to show him her belly-button ring. He scooped her closer and ran his tongue around the ring and over her belly button.
“Steffen,” she whispered. “This isn’t a good idea.”
“Honey, I want you, but—”
“But not until your shoulder heals.”
“To hell with the shoulder. I want to kiss you, but my beard is scratchy, and I don’t want to mess up your face.”
She kissed him gently, then pulled back and rubbed her face. “You’re right. It’s scratchy.”
He stood and put both arms around her. He couldn’t put any weight on his right arm, but it worked just fine for this. If this was Sheryl, she’d expect him to make love to her, no matter how badly he’d been injured. But Ginny put his welfare over her own physical needs. He couldn’t remember when someone had done that for him.
The kitty rubbed against their legs, purring, and Ginny pulled back a little. “I need to feed Boomer, then I need to find something to make us for dinner. Are you hungry?”
“Yes, but my appetite is for—”
She put her finger over his lips. “Don’t say it. Not now. After your arm heals and your beard grows in, we’ll see what happens.”
He knew what would happen. They’d make wild, passionate love. It was all he could do to keep his hands off her, and from the look in her eyes, she wanted him, too. And she felt that way without him planting thoughts in her mind.
Steffen wondered what Sheryl would do if he showed up on her doorstep needing help. She’d stuck with him over the years because he had something to give her. Sheryl liked their mind-enhanced sex, and she loved showing him off at parties, as if he was a pet monkey she’d trained herself.
Ginny didn’t seem to care about his party tricks. She cared about him. And he had a feeling they wouldn’t need any enhancements when they made love.
Chapter Eight
The next morning, Ginny shook hands with Chief Britton, and he waved her to a chair in front of his desk. She felt apprehensive about this meeting, but what could he do except fire her? The captain had already put her on suspension.
“Detective Kane, I understand you had some problems with Captain Pierson yesterday.”
“Yes, sir. I refused to reveal my sources.”
“Why? What’s the big secret?”
“I don’t trust him to keep the information to himself.”
The chief leaned back in his chair. “You mean he’ll tell reporters?”
“I’m afraid so. I’d rather lose my job than put the lives of more kids in danger.”
“Why doesn’t he like you? What’s so different about you?”
Ginny didn’t want to get herself in more trouble or cause anyone else any problems, but the chief had to know what was going on. “Bad enough I’m a female detective, and Captain Pierson didn’t want any more female detectives. My name is Kane, therefore in his mind, I’m not to be trusted.”
“What did you tell the captain yesterday about this case?”
“I told him the street names of the three people the murdered boy was going to buy drugs from, and I told him the boy was planning to hold back some money so he could buy diapers and milk for his baby sisters.”
“The mother was on welfare?”
“I assume so, but her money didn’t go for food. I don’t know why CPS left the kids there. They should have been removed long before this happened.”
The chief nodded. “Sad case. What else did you tell the captain?”
“I told him where these three drug dealers hung out and wh
at time to find them there. I assumed he’d send someone in undercover before he brought them in for questioning, but that’s not my call.”
Ginny fiddled with the ring on her right hand. “Instead of asking more about the suspects – I had already pulled two of their files – he demanded to know my sources. I refused to tell him, so he put me on suspension. He said I wouldn’t work for him anymore.”
“That’s what Detective Milburn said. She also mentioned the long hours you work.”
“Ah, yes, the hours. I took a whole day off this week. I’d asked for a week, but after one day, the captain told me to get my ass into the station. I have a friend who’d been shot, and I’d intended to stay home and take care of him while he recovered, but…” She shrugged. “Nothing new. I worked eighty-two hours last week, seventy-eight the week before, and eighty the week before that.”
“You track your hours?”
“Yes, sir. Everyone is so burned out, I’m afraid someone will get careless. The male detectives get days off now and then, but if I ask for days off, I get a lecture on how much he hates female detectives, how they can’t handle the work, and how he was forced to take me or I wouldn’t be working for him.” Ginny wondered if she was saying too much, but Karen had talked with him yesterday, so he already knew.
The chief, a gray-haired man on the verge of retirement, shook his head. “I looked through your personnel file yesterday, after Karen Milburn came to see me. You got a perfect score on the detective exam, and from what Detective Milburn tells me, you have excellent instincts.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Your father was one of the best detectives this department has ever had, and I’m glad to see his daughter following in his footsteps.” He smiled. “I suppose one of these days you’ll want my job.”
“Not yet,” she said with a smile, and he laughed.
“As of today, you have three weeks off. We’ll call it comp time. Captain Pierson will fill in for you. When you return to work, Detective Milburn will take time off. I don’t want any burned-out detectives on the streets. That’s asking for trouble.”
“You mean I’m not on suspension?”
