by Peggy Bird
Danny got the message. She stood up and helped clear the trash away. “There are parts of my job that aren’t fun, people who are a pain in the ass or worse. But meeting the other kind of people more than makes up for those times.” She hoped her smile conveyed that she thought her companion was in the latter category.
“One last thing, Detective,” Kaylea said as they walked back to the camp. “Jim talked in his sleep. Most of the time it was about Afghanistan and Iraq. Lately, though, he’d been talking about something else. I could never quite figure it out. It was all, ‘What do you think you’re doing?’ ‘That’s crazy stuff.’ ‘I’ll have to tell someone if you don’t stop.’”
“You ask him about it?”
“Sure. But he said it was the usual. I tried to tell him it was different but he brushed me off.”
They’d reached the camp and Danny noticed Jake watching them as they went to Kaylea’s shelter.
She put out her hand to the woman. “I appreciate your talking to me, Kaylea. And I’m sorry about your friend.”
“Thanks for the coffee,” Kaylea said in a gruff voice and disappeared into her shelter.
Danny felt Jake standing behind her before she heard his voice. “You were gone quite a while.”
“Just went for coffee. You finished making your rounds?” She could see he was holding his curiosity at bay, wanting to ask her about the conversation she’d had but aware of Kaylea’s presence five feet away from them.
“Yup. We can go whenever you’re ready.”
As soon as they got to his vehicle, he said, “So, Kaylea. Did you talk about anything of interest?”
“You, for one thing. She said Jim thought the world of you, like all the other guys did. She’s not quite as impressed. Fresh out of hero worship, was the way she described it. Seems like she’s a bit skittish about you.”
He sounded like he was swallowing a laugh. “I’m not surprised. She doesn’t have a lot of trust in men in general. Not after what happened to her in Iraq.”
“She alluded to something happening to her there but I didn’t push about it and she didn’t give me any details. I assume she was in the military.”
“Yeah, Army mechanic. Good one, I understand. But she had a rough time on her last tour. She was raped. More than once. By the same officer.”
“Jesus. Was he court-martialed?”
“No. He was her commanding officer and she didn’t turn him in.”
“What the hell kind of system lets that happen?”
“A fucked up one. Less than 10 percent of the rapes that occur in the military are prosecuted. And only two percent of those accused are convicted.”
“That’s appalling. Why … ?”
Jake made an irritated gesture. “I’d rather hear what she did talk about, if that’s okay, not what she didn’t.”
“Patience not your strong suit, Doctor Abrams?” Danny nudged him in the ribs with her elbow, trying to lighten the atmosphere that had gotten suddenly quite dark — as it always seemed to whenever he talked about anything connected with serving in the military.
She was rewarded with a half-smile, so she continued, “She said Jim had been avoiding the clinic lately and had told her to do the same. He said there was someone there he didn’t trust.”
“So that’s it. I wondered why he only saw me in the camp. She say who the person was?”
“Other than it wasn’t you, no. He didn’t tell her. But he still wanted you to treat him so you’re off the hook.” She hesitated for a moment. “Were Jim and Kaylea … uh … Were they intimate?”
“I assume so. She asked for birth control about the time he started hanging out with her. I was surprised. When she first came to the clinic we did a full history, and asked about sexual activity so we could test for STDs if we needed to. She was adamant that she’d had no contact whatsoever with any man. I thought she might be a lesbian until the birth control request. Shortly after that, one of the nurses told me about what happened in Iraq. Somehow Jim found out and promised to keep her safe.”
“She said she told him. And that’s how she described him — as her protector. She obviously cared for him.”
“Anything else interesting?”
“Jim had been having bad dreams and was talking in his sleep.”
“That goes along with the PTSD.”
“But he was talking about different stuff. Someone was doing something Jim didn’t like and he was telling the person he’d have to report him if he didn’t stop. If that was more than a random dream or a flashback to a war zone, it might be a motive for murder.”
Chapter Four
Nothing was breaking for them. Not that Danny had ever thought this would be an easy case to clear. The members of the transient community wanted nothing to do with the police. They wouldn’t even talk to a female cop who traveled with an escort they trusted — Danny almost always took Jake with her when she made a trip to the camp. She’d hoped there’d be someone with something worthwhile to tell her and a willingness to do so. It hadn’t happened.
So far, she and Sam had unearthed only two pieces of potentially useful information. First, in one of the shootings Jake had mentioned that had occurred before the murder, a man had been slightly wounded. He’d gone to the ER and told them he’d been in a fight — consequently, the hospital report of a gunshot wound made no mention of a drive-by shooting into a transient camp. And no one at the camp had thought to tell Jake — or anyone else — about something that seemed to be only some random event.
And then there was tidbit number two. Around the time of the two shootings and the murder, a small, dark, maybe black sedan had been seen in all three locations. It had been variously described as a Honda, a Hyundai, and a Toyota Corolla — not exactly courtroom-worthy identification, but it was something.
Then, less than a week after Jim Branson’s murder, another homeless veteran was shot and seriously wounded. He was on life support but not expected to live. Danny had been the first detective on scene. For seventy-two hours straight she worked the case, talking to people where it had happened, combing through the reports of the officers who’d first responded for anything she could follow up on, nagging the lab for results on the few things they’d picked up at the scene worth calling evidence. Every now and then she’d grab a quick bite to eat or catch the occasional nap, but she didn’t go home — and had no plans to do so. She was determined to find something, anything, she could use as a solid lead.
Sam, who had been working as intensely on this as well as the other cases they’d caught, had at least gone home for a decent meal and a few hours of sleep each night. He’d urged her to do the same. But she stayed. Maybe it was the conversation she’d had with Kaylea; maybe it was that she hated to feel stymied by a bad guy, this bad guy in particular. Or maybe it was the pain on Jake Abrams’s face every time she’d seen him.
But now, at the ragged end of three days, the fatigue was wearing on her. Tired, hungry, and caffeine deprived, she knew she needed to back off for a while. The coffee in front of her, which had started out as a cappuccino from her favorite barista, the one who gives good foam, was cold and about as tempting as the bagel beside it which was of hockey puck consistency. Promising to reward herself with fresh coffee and something decent to eat as soon as she was finished, she went through the crime scene photos once more.
Not that she hadn’t done it about a hundred times already. And like all the other times, on this pass, nothing jumped out at her. She was beginning to think maybe Sam was right — she should go home, get some sleep, and come back with fresh eyes. Idly, she clicked through the images one last time before she took a break. First, the camp where Jim had been killed. Next, the site of the latest shooting. Then the images she and Sam had taken of the place where the man had been wounded.
Hell, this was a waste of time. She could have visualized the photos without the assistance of the computer. There was nothing new.
Wait. Something caught her attention as sh
e clicked from one image to the next. Go back, Hartmann, and see what that was. She did, looking carefully at the photo. Then she went to the next image. Then another. Back to the first. Was it her weariness making her see things? No, it was there. Suddenly she was wide-awake and more alert than she had been in hours.
How could they have missed it?
“Sam? Want to come take a look at this?” she called to her partner.
He stood behind her and watched as she pointed out what she’d found. “I’ll be damned. Nice, Danny. Let’s call the doc and get him over here. See what he has to say.”
In less than half an hour, Jake Abrams was standing where Sam had been, looking over Danny’s shoulder at her computer screen. Sam was perched on the edge of her desk across from them, watching, gauging the doctor’s reaction.
“Danny, why don’t you show the doc what you found?” he said quietly.
“I’ve got two photos from each of the three crime scenes for you to see, Jake. What I want to know is whether you find something unusual in them.”
First, she pulled up the images of the site of the drive-by, then the murder scene, then the most recent shooting. After the half-dozen images had been reviewed at least three times, Jake shook his head. “I see the camps the way I always see them. Grocery carts, tents, people. They all look alike.” She could tell from the tone of his voice that he was frustrated. “I don’t see anything different. Nothing I wouldn’t expect.”
Danny moved the cursor off to the side of the image, to a scattering of cardboard signs, the kind panhandlers use at freeway exits. “How about those signs? Anything there?”
Printed on the signs were pleas for money — some of them funny, like I’ll eat for food or Need money to buy a light saber because a Sith lord attacked my family. Some were honest and asked for money for a beer or a hamburger; one even asked for donations for crack. Some were sad, if they were true — Vietnam vet on the street after foreclosure was the one that had gotten to Danny.
Jake looked them over and shook his head. Danny clicked on the computer and brought up the second image, pointing to a second set of signs. “Don’t look at what’s written on the signs. Ignore that.”
It wasn’t until the fourth image that Jake said, “In all those photos there’s cardboard from East State Medical Supplies. Is that what you mean? I recognize the logo, and there,” he pointed to one piece on the ground, “is the company’s name on that chunk of cardboard.”
“It’s not only in those photos but in all the other ones, too. The only other recognizable names are grocery related. Those boxes are easy to get from any grocery store. But medical supplies? I wondered how the men got those particular boxes. Please, please tell me that company only does business with a few places in town,” Danny said.
Jake laughed. “You’re in luck, Detective. They’ve been trying to break into the west coast market by donating supplies to a couple free clinics in town. I think there are only two places where that cardboard could have come from: us and Outside In.”
Sam put his hand up for a high-five with his partner. “Nice work, Hartmann. Now will you get the hell out of here and go get some sleep?”
Danny yawned. “Yeah, now that I found something worth following up on, I’ll go. But I’ll be back tomorrow and we’ll go see those two clinics. I want to see how they handle their recycling and if anyone knows how that cardboard got to the camps. It may be it was simply given to them but I want to find out.”
“I don’t think we hand out cardboard,” Jake said. “It’s recycled into the bin out in the back every day where it’s protected by a chain-link fence, razor wire, and a locked gate to keep people out of the yard. The recycle bin stays there except on collection day when it’s on the street, right in front of the storefront window where we can see it.”
“You’re sure the gate in the back is always locked?”
“Yeah, we’re paranoid about access. We have to be sure to keep all the doors and windows secure because we have drugs around that might be tempting.”
“How about Outside In?” Danny asked. “Do you know … ?”
Sam interrupted. “Don’t worry about that. I’ll go to Outside In and the doc’s clinic. You go home.”
Jake added, “Doctor’s orders, Danny. You look asleep on your feet.”
“Okay, okay. I’m outnumbered. See you tomorrow, Sam.”
“Monday, Danny. See you Monday.”
As Danny and Jake waited for the elevator, the full weight of her exhaustion hit her. She yawned and shuddered with the force of it.
“You sure you’re in good enough shape to drive home?” Jake asked.
“I’m not driving. I took the MAX train this morning — yesterday — day before — whenever the hell I came in to work. I live over by the Lloyd Center.”
“Then let me take you home. If you get on the light rail, you’ll fall asleep and end up miles away from home in deepest, darkest east county. Assuming you don’t get on the wrong train and wind up in deepest, darkest Washington County.”
“You don’t have to … ”
“I want to. Please.”
She closed her eyes and started to shake her head no, as she would have done if Sam made the offer. Then she changed her mind. This wasn’t Sam hovering. It was Doctor Sexy playing nice. “Okay. Thank you.”
When they got to his vehicle Jake opened the door and helped Danny in, pulling the seatbelt down for her and handing her the buckle. She fumbled with it, and the belt snapped back, snagging in the lapel of her jacket. He rescued her — or the seatbelt, she wasn’t sure which — and smoothly pulled it across her body.
Even in her half-asleep state she could smell the clean, male scent of him, feel the warmth of his breath on her throat as he leaned over her to sort out the safety harness. As his hands deftly untangled the belt from her clothes, the backs of his fingers brushed against her breasts. She could feel a tingle and thought he felt something, too, because his sea-blue eyes went hurricane dark, and his breath hitched for a second … Actually, she didn’t think she was breathing at all.
They were both frozen in place for a moment until he shook his head and clicked the tab in place, asking, “You okay?”
She nodded, her mouth so dry she was sure she couldn’t have answered in words if her life depended on it.
Nothing more was said until they neared the Broadway Bridge. Waiting at a traffic light, Jake asked, “Where near the Lloyd Center do you live?”
“On Fourteenth, north of Broadway.” She yawned again. His vehicle was so warm and cozy. She was so very, very tired.
He glanced over at her and patted her knee. “Stay with me. We’ll be there soon.”
Her body stayed with him but not the rest of her. She must have almost immediately fallen asleep because the next thing she knew he was shaking her gently, saying, “Danny? I’m on Fourteenth. Which is your house?”
She woke with a start. “Sorry. I must have dozed off.” It took a few seconds before she could orient herself and answer him. “It’s on the next block. Right-hand side of the street. The lower apartment in the duplex with the dark blue door is mine.”
A minute later they pulled up in front of the house.
Without looking directly at him she said, “I appreciate the ride. Can I offer you a beer or a glass of wine? A cup of coffee? To say thanks?”
With his forefinger under her chin, he gently turned her face toward him. “I can’t think of anything I’d like better than to spend time alone with you. But … you need sleep and I won’t want to leave any time soon if I go in with you. So I think it would be best if I say no. But I’ll take a rain check, if you’re handing them out.”
She was surprised at how disappointed she felt. “Okay, rain check it is. Thanks again for bringing me home.” Impulsively, she leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.
Unhooking his seat belt, he slid closer to her. “I think we can do better than that, don’t you?”
His arms tugged at her, bringing
her closer. When she was only inches away from being pressed up against his chest, he took her chin again in one hand and carefully tipped her face up so it was close to his. All she could see, it seemed, was that full-lipped, sensuous, tempting mouth. She licked her lips in anticipation of what he was about to do with it.
But he didn’t do what she expected. He talked. “You are one amazing woman. I’ve wanted to kiss you since the first time I saw you. Well, after I wanted to kick your butt for having such a smart mouth.” He touched her lips with his finger. “Interesting. My first reactions to you all had to do with this.” His forefinger outlined her mouth. “Now I’m finally going to find out what it tastes like.”
The kiss started out slowly, his soft, sweet mouth on hers. That led to tasting the corners of her mouth with the tip of his tongue, then nibbling on the center of her Cupid’s bow upper lip. After that, he got serious. With a growl deep in his throat, he urged her with the tip of his tongue to open to him, to let him in so he could taste all of her mouth. She acquiesced gladly, moaning a little as his velvety tongue swept through her mouth, expertly exploring every inch of it.
She melted against him, feeling her insides turn to hot, sweet liquid, wanting more than anything for him to take the next step, make the next move, whatever that was. The heat of his mouth, the passion of his kiss, seemed to have burned away her weariness. She’d never been kissed like this before, with such skill, such desire. She gave herself up to him, wanting nothing other than more of him because, oh, God, this man could kiss.
He clicked the release on her seatbelt then stroked his hand down her back, urging her to press the rest of her body against his. She went willingly, sliding across the gearshift console between them and snaking her arms up his and circling his shoulders. The kiss went on and on, taking her breath away, clouding her brain more than any fatigue ever had yet at the same time making her feel alert to every delicious sensation sweeping over her.
