by LS Sygnet
During whistles and thunderous applause for what I would later learn was deemed the most gracious speech anyone had heard from an officer being decorated for exemplary duty, I noticed a change in the spirit of three men at our table. It started with Devlin reaching for his cell phone, followed by Ned, then Johnny. His eyes met mine, sober and grim.
I turned in time to see Crevan staring at the screen on his telephone as well. Damn Johnny for not giving my iPhone back yet! I stepped away from the podium and snatched the device from his hand.
A single line of text spanned the screen. Storm in custody at Downey.
Crevan spoke before I had the chance. "Lou, we've got to go."
Other divisions were clamoring to hear from their detectives, so slipping away and back to our table with Shelly in tow wasn't difficult. Johnny was speaking to Zack.
"If you'd get her home, I'd appreciate it."
Hell no! "Johnny, I'm going –"
"He meant me, Ms. Eriksson," Marci addressed me directly for the first time.
"We'll go talk to him, Doc. You and me. Everyone else, be ready to leave at a moment's notice. Zack, depending on what Doc can wring out of him, we might need that warrant we discussed earlier."
"What can I do?" Maya asked.
I grinned at her. "Party like it's 1999. We've managed to keep them off your table this time, Maya."
Johnny shook his head and laughed. "You might want to have that grave digger of yours on standby. I'd love it after all these years if we could find our missing body, Dr. Winslow. An actual cause of death would be even better."
"Are you sure you don't want us at Downey?" Devlin asked.
"No," I said. "What happens next is dependent on the outcome of the interview. No sense in missing dessert because of this. We'll call if we need you. Johnny, do you have my car?"
He nodded.
"Let's go."
Johnny followed me to the coat room and plucked the wrap I'd worn out of hundreds of coats. "Home to change first?" he asked after draping it over my shoulders.
"I can't show up to question Storm looking like this."
"Figured you'd say that."
"Orion?"
"Aw, we're not back to that again, are we?"
I shook my head. "Sorry. Just trying to get my head back into the case."
His hands anchored my hips and stepped me close enough to be enveloped by his heat. "Helen, we need to talk about what happened in there tonight."
"Right now? The case is –"
His head dipped quickly to steal a soft kiss.
"What was that for?" I whispered in a throaty rasp.
"You wished me a happy birthday. Now I've had one."
"Johnny," my eyes darted away, downward toward anything but the emotion brimming in his eyes. He cupped my chin and refused to let me avoid the truth.
"Tell me."
Those guileless blue eyes sucked me into a universe of infinite possibility. "I don't hate you," I said.
"And?"
"I'm sorry I said it."
"Doc... stop hedging. What else?"
"I have missed you."
"You're starting to try my infinite patience. Say it."
"I'd rather wait until we can –"
He kissed me again, slow and thorough, until my knees buckled and the only thing that kept me from slithering to the floor were the strong arms around me. "Tell me," he whispered. "Tell me right now."
"You do know me."
"I was talking about something I don't already know for certain."
Fear. It is my curse.
"We need to go."
"I need something else at the moment. Why are you so afraid of this, Helen? Haven't I proven to you that I will never hurt you, never betray your confidence, protect you in any way that I can?"
"Yes."
"Tell me. It's the one thing I can't know until I hear you say it." Johnny pressed his lips to my forehead. "I need to hear you say it, Helen."
Tiny tears leaked from my eyes. I needed it too. "I love you, Johnny."
Chapter 32
The ride home was a silent one, quiet with relief, still with the sense that one battle had truly ended and a united front was finally achieved. Johnny only insisted on holding my hand. He followed me into my dressing room and helped unfasten the gown that would forever be my favorite, no matter where in the world I went.
No, I didn't clarify that point, didn't explain that loving him changed nothing. When my work in Darkwater Bay was done, it would still be time for me to leave. To say so now would only take away the peace that he deserved to feel after everything he'd done for me.
I stepped out of the dress and handed it to him. When the underclothing disappeared, Johnny's fingers slipped between the bones of my ribcage. "We've got a bit of work left to be done, eh, sweetheart?"
"We'll get there," I stilled his hand. "Johnny, we need to get to Downey Division. Go change your clothes."
He called through the open door to his dressing room. "Are you going to pretend that he alone can help you close the case of what really happened to Chief McNamara?"
"No," I tugged a loose charcoal cashmere turtleneck sweater over my head and pulled on a pair of grey leggings. "I thought I'd go in with what I know, that McNamara was slaughtered and that we have evidence that Billy Withers was framed for the murder."
Johnny popped his head back into the dressing room while I tugged on a pair of black knee-high suede boots.
"Do we have evidence that Billy wasn't involved in this?"
"Please. Have you met him? He's as gentle as a lamb. I'm not required to be honest with Riley Storm. He just has to believe that I believe what I'm saying, and I do. I know for a fact that Billy isn't capable of such an atrocity, Johnny. Maya told me tonight that he didn't finish his training because it was simply too disturbing for him."
"But he can stand the autopsy process? Doc, that doesn't make sense."
"During an autopsy, they're looking for the truth, trying to help make sure that no one else suffers the way our victims have. It might seem like a subtle distinction to you, but I certainly get it."
His hands tangled in the soft folds of my sweater and pulled me close. "Did I happen to mention tonight that I think you're beautiful?"
I clasped my hair behind my head into a ponytail secured by my fingers and twisted out of his grip. "Let me get my hair out of the way and we can head over to Downey."
Johnny laughed and followed me into the bathroom where I found a scrunchie to hold my hair back. "I think you're changing the subject on purpose."
"And I think it's a very bad idea to drag my head out of this case, no matter how much you want to do it, Johnny. Riley Storm could know exactly who killed both McNamara and Southerby. If it's Lowe, we're probably screwed, because he'll want some type of leniency on the other murders if he fingers Datello. Knowing how you and I feel about that, it might be too tempting you know?"
"You'd go along with a reduced sentence to get Danny behind bars?"
"Such deals are made all the time. Don't be naïve. You have to take into consideration that Datello is more than a little bit culpable for the general state of crime in this city, and bears a hell of a lot of responsibility in what Jerry Lowe did too, making sure he got into a position that further protected his sick hobby."
"Do you think you can sufficiently scare Storm into cooperating?"
"I doubt it. This is run number one at him. Maya says we've got enough on him for McNamara's death to make the whole shebang stick. He can either play ball or he can be prosecuted for all of it, and look like he acted alone. He has to believe I don't give a damn if that's the best I can do right now."
"But?"
I finished adjusting my hair and turned around to lean against the bathroom vanity. I grinned, "But Riley knows that if he's incarcerated, his days are numbered. You don't take a secret like that to prison. You take it to your grave."
"You're going to offer to protect him."
"I'm going
to remind him that our protection is the only thing that will keep him alive. McNamara is the tip of the iceberg where his mishandled cases are concerned. I wonder if he'd like to see every single death he certified exhumed for reexamination?"
"God help the poor sap."
"Even if we couldn't convict him for anything, the public cry of outrage at how he lied would be enough to destroy him, if not compel some poor grieving widow to mow him down with her car, or one of his so-called-pals on the golf course to take a nine iron to his head."
"I'd pick the one iron," Johnny said. "It's harder and longer than the nine."
"Whatever. You get my point. His life as he knew it is over either way. This will follow him everywhere. No amount of money will make it go away, and he needs to understand that he can change his name and run, but I'll follow him and make sure people know what he's capable of."
Johnny reached out with one hand and caressed my cheek. "Remind me never to get on your bad side."
At Downey Division, Hal Vickers was on duty covering the detective squad. He smiled warmly when he saw me. "I wondered who'd come flying over here from the big party to talk to Dr. Storm. I'm warning you Helen, he is not a happy camper tonight."
"Johnny," I murmured, "would you be content to observe this interrogation from the observation room? I think the presence of OSI at this point will make Riley aware that we're looking at a far broader scope than Harry McNamara's murder."
"I wouldn't be content to observe, but I can't disagree with you."
"Don't worry. I know what I'm doing." If anybody should understand it, Johnny should. Riley Storm was about to butt heads and match wits with someone trained in thinking like a criminal from birth.
I felt the urge to channel my inner Dad and let his wisdom guide the interview. It wasn't a half bad idea.
"I don't like the notion of you talking to this guy alone, Doc."
"I won't be. Vickers is going to sit in."
"I am?"
I nodded. "Can you bring him up to the interview room? Make sure he's still cuffed. The shackle on the table will do nicely for now. Then join Johnny and me in observation. I want to have a good look at his comfort level before we talk to him."
"You wanna make him anxious," Hal grinned broadly. "I like it. Be back with the creep in a jiffy."
I hooked my arm through Johnny's and walked him to the observation room. "I should give you fair warning right now, Johnny. I will absolutely say or do anything to coerce this man into telling me what I need to know."
"That's pretty much standard operating procedure, isn't it?"
My eyes rose. "I will say or do anything. I will be my father's child in that room, Johnny. You might hear lies come out of my mouth that make you doubt who I really am."
The backs of his fingers stroked my cheek. "Now why would you ever believe that? You haven't changed my opinion with a single lie you've told so far, Doc."
"You're a freak."
"I prefer human lie detector. You have your gifts; I have mine. Fortunately for you, I can also understand the motives behind the stories you tell with such ease, and I don't happen to disagree with them."
"Yet," I muttered.
"Ah, there the old bastard is," Johnny jerked his head toward the two-way mirror. "He's still plenty smug, Helen."
"Good. I hope that means Jerry Lowe has lulled him into a state of false security."
"The cuffs might've tipped him off that this isn't the friendliest of conversations."
Johnny flipped on the intercom so we could hear what was said.
I moved toward the window and watched Dr. Storm's haughty demeanor when Vickers uncuffed one wrist and attached it to the metal loop on the table. He muttered something, and Storm's eyes rose to the mirror. "I greatly look forward to it," he said.
"Looks a lot younger than fifty-five, doesn't he?" Only the tiniest bits of silver gray peppered his temples. The rest of his hair was thick and jet black. A single swath of it fell stubbornly over one eye. And speaking of his eyes, even from the distance we stood and the obscurity of the darkened glass, I could almost count the long lashes and see every fleck of green and gold in the vibrant depths. Riley Storm was not afraid.
"We'll see about that, Dr. Storm," I met his eyes in silent challenge and wondered if he could feel me watching him too.
"See about what?"
"Hmm. Hal, are you ready?"
He opened the door for me and swept one hand.
"Wish me luck, Orion."
"Luck," Johnny said.
Storm's eyes swiveled to the door when Hal opened it. I swept into the room on his low whistle. His gaze crawled over me, cheap and unsettling. "I'd heard stories, but hell. Hell! You are one tall woman, detective."
I pulled out a chair and sat without offering greeting or introduction. "Do you know why you're here?"
"Rumors in this city are what they are," he shrugged and shot a wicked grin. "How's that boy of yours doing, detective? Is he lurking around, perhaps behind that window making sure nobody steps on his turf?"
"Women are manipulative creatures by nature, Mr. Storm."
"Doctor," he corrected with a thin smile.
"Retired. Whatever," I shrugged. "Women have known for years that the path of least resistance is to merely let a man believe what he wishes to believe. We say what must be said because it's less difficult than fighting certain battles." I felt the eyes bore into my back through the window. Johnny couldn't claim I hadn't warned him.
"You're a bit feminine in that regard, aren't you Riley?"
"Excuse me?"
"You had a habit of saying – or in your case, documenting – what people wanted to read back in the day when you ran the medical examiner's office. What I find particularly interesting is that you started out doing a very competent job, so I know that the abrupt departure from quality work wasn't mere stupidity. What was it? Money?"
He snorted. "I won't fall for your tactics, Detective Eriksson. If you've got hard evidence against me, arrest me. Otherwise I have nothing –"
"Riley Storm, you're under arrest for the murder of Harry McNamara. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford one, the state will provide one at its expense. Do you understand your rights as I have defined them?" I held his gaze and didn't blink.
He did.
"Well played, detective."
"Doctor," I replied in kind. "Do you understand your rights? Hal?" I reached to my left without breaking eye contact with Storm.
Vickers procured paperwork from a clipboard in his lap and pulled a pen from his pocket.
"Where do I sign? And when do I get this –"
"Before you request legal counsel," I interrupted, "I would like to inform you that the case against you is open and shut. You have no hope of leniency, nor will Mr. Carpenter be inclined to listen to a damn word you have to say. That master plan, the one where you incriminated Billy Withers in all of this? We've already confirmed Billy's alibi for the time in question. You," I said with absolute certainty, "did not do your homework particularly well, Mr. Storm."
Storm scrawled his name on the form verifying that he'd been informed of his rights. "Well then, I suppose all of this is a mere formality, though I can't imagine why the department would send someone of your reputation over here to read me my rights."
My smile sent ice crystals climbing the windows. "Because I requested it, Mr. Storm. You see, I wanted to look you in the eye and tell you personally how horrific your crime truly was, and have the pleasure of laying out exactly how this will play in court. Harry McNamara was a beloved figure in this city. When word leaks to the press about how he really died..." I clicked my tongue and glanced at Vickers.
"Have you called that reporter that's been so interested in what we're doing?"
"Crevan's wife." Vickers gave a solemn nod.
"Good," I said. "We'll have the sick, depraved details al
l over the paper by morning. I can only imagine how the good Catholics in this city will be praying for retribution at mass."
Some of Riley's self-confidence leeched away, replaced by doubt. "Exactly what is it that you believe I did, Detective Eriksson?"
"Oh, I can't really talk to you, Riley. I'd be too tempted to ask questions. You know, like have you no soul or conscience? Or was I mistaken that you were about to invoke your right to an attorney? Really, that suits me just fine." I crossed my arms over my chest. "Contrary to what you've heard from your very misinformed friend, I have nothing better to do with my Saturday night than wait for your lawyer to arrive. I'll be happy to tell him the gory details of what Harry suffered as he died."
"You're bluffing."
"We exhumed his remains two days ago. I assure you, Maya Winslow does not bluff, nor does she miss the most minute of details. Surely you've heard that in your precious rumor mill."
I glanced at Vickers and continued. "The smart play in this situation would be to talk, to tell us everything and accept a plea bargain before the city finds out what happened to someone who is still widely revered. Funny that Riley landed at Downey though, don't you think? I mean, we haven't got the best reputation for keeping prisoners in our custody safe."
Storm sucked in a deep breath. "Did you just threaten me?"
I shrugged. "It's simply a matter of record, Dr. Storm. First that killer died here under suspicious circumstances, ones which I might add, you failed to properly identify before his remains mysteriously disappeared, and then there was the most recent murder down in the tombs. Cyanide, we learned thanks to Dr. Winslow."
"I'll take my chances –"
"With public opinion when they learn that Jerry Lowe pumped his boss full of succinylcholine that you provided, and made it appear that he was dead until you were able to begin embalming him while he was still alive? Riley," I paused and let him absorb Vickers' horrified gasp for a moment before the outrage transformed into something decidedly more worthy of lynch mob mentality. "That is not a very wise choice."
