by J. M. Madden
“I shouldn’t have brought you.”
“It’s my case, too. Even though I’m just on loan. And I think I needed it. I think I’ve been too focused on myself.”
Will glanced at me, but didn’t speak.
“What happened to me was horrible. But I wasn’t the first woman who’s ever been raped, and I won’t be the last. She—” I nodded toward the hospital, several miles away by now, and Maria, “won’t be the last, either, unless we stop him.”
Will nodded.
“We have to stop him for her. And for the others.” The victims had a face now. They had Maria’s face. “We have to stop him before he does it again, to someone else.”
“So you’re onboard for tonight.”
“Yes,” I said, and this time my voice was my own, strong and clear. “I’m onboard for tonight. Let’s get this bastard.”
SIX
Nine o’clock found me walking through the door at Courant again. Just like yesterday, Will had shown up at eight to stick the microphone into my bra. Just like yesterday, Cal was in a van somewhere in sight of the entrance, and would turn the mic on when he saw me entering the nightclub. And just like last night, Will was inside. I didn’t see him, but his voice was in my ear. “Let me know if you need help. Otherwise, I’ll leave you alone.”
I did a headbob and went to work.
In every respect, the evening was a repeat of last night. I wore the same clothes, I danced to the same music, I said the same things to the same men. Or if they weren’t the same men, they said the same things to me, and looked at me the same way. Occasionally, I’d hear Will’s voice in my ear. “What a jackass!” or “Keep an eye on that guy. He’s an ass-grabber.”
It was just after eleven when someone said my name. Not Will. Someone next to me at the bar. “Carmen.”
I spun around. And it took a second, because I was so focused on where I was and what I was doing that what had happened two nights ago seemed like ancient history.
“Duane,” I said, after a pause to hunt for the name.
He grinned. “What are you doing here? Is Bianca here, too?” He looked around.
I shook my head. “She went back to Port St. Lucie.”
He frowned. “I thought you were here together.”
“We were at Murphy’s Law together. She just went home a little earlier than me. She missed her family.”
Duane’s grin was back. “And you wanted to party.”
I shrugged. It probably looked like that, yeah.
“Buy you a drink?”
“I’m good,” I said, lifting my glass to show him I still had some left, “but thanks.”
“You wanna dance?”
It wasn’t like I could really say no to that, since dancing was what people did here. That and hook up, and I wasn’t about to do that.
So I put my glass down and went to dance. And after a few sweaty songs, Duane offered to buy me another drink.
“I’m all right,” I told him. “I think I’m just going to go get some air.”
“I’ll go with you. Make sure nothing happens. There’s someone going around the nightclubs targeting women like you.”
Since I wasn’t supposed to know anything about that, I made sure my eyes were wide when I turned to him. “What do you mean?”
There was a click in my ear. I waited for Will to say something, but he didn’t.
“It’s very hush-hush,” Duane said. “Only CI is supposed to know about it.”
“CI?”
“Criminal Investigations,” Duane said. “Remember Will, the guy you turned down the other night? He works for Criminal Investigations.”
“Good for him.” I shook my head. “I don’t care about that. What do you mean, someone’s targeting women like me?”
“Latinas,” Duane said, as we made our way down the hallway to the less populated back door, where it was actually possible to breathe. “Sexy Hispanic women in dance clubs.”
I stopped short of the door to the outside and turned to him. “What happens to them? Do they get killed?”
“Assaulted,” Duane said.
“You mean raped?”
He nodded.
“Madre de Dios.” I glanced at the door. “I’m not going outside.”
Duane grinned. “I’ll protect you.”
Sure. “That’s OK. It’s cooler here. And less people. I just want a chance to catch my breath.”
Duane glanced appreciatively at my chest, just as my earbud clicked again. “Get rid of him,” Will’s voice said.
“How?” I answered, frustrated. It wasn’t like I could hit him over the head and stuff him in the dumpster in the alley, was it?
Duane looked up from contemplating my breasts. “How what?”
Shit. “How...” I thought fast, “how do you know about it, if only Criminal Investigations are supposed to know?”
“I have my ways,” Duane said.
Sure. Whatever. “How many women are we talking about? And how long has it been going on?”
“A couple weeks,” Duane said, leaning a shoulder against the wall with his arms folded across his chest. He really did have an impressive physique. He was wearing a tight, silky T-shirt—the better to show off his muscles, I’m sure—and his shoulders and biceps stretched the fabric almost to ripping-point. “I think there’s been four women so far.”
Word must have gotten out about Maria. Not surprising, since it had been almost a day.
I didn’t have to fake the shudder. “That’s awful.”
Duane nodded. “That’s why you gotta be careful. When you’re ready to go, I’ll make sure you get home safe.”
“That’s nice of you,” I said, “but I’m not ready yet.” And the last thing I wanted, was to have him hit on me outside my apartment, or expect to come up for ‘coffee,’ since he’d seen me home.
No, scratch that. The last thing I wanted was for him to stop the real rapist from coming after me, so we’d have to go back to the hospital tomorrow morning to interview another victim.
“I’ll wait,” Duane said.
Will muttered something. I’m not sure what it was, but I think it may have been a curse.
“I think I’m ready to go back to the dance floor,” I told Duane. Maybe I could lose him in the crush of bodies, since he seemed to have attached himself to me until I could dislodge him.
“I’ll go with you.” He pushed off from the wall and fell into step next to me. “You can’t be too careful.”
No, you couldn’t. In my ear, I could hear Will sigh. “Hang on,” he told me. “I’ll come get him off you.”
“Thank you,” I told both of them, as Duane and I headed back to the dance floor.
Will made his move a couple minutes later. Or maybe it had just taken him that long to make his way over to us. Courant was hopping. I had thought maybe it’d be a little less crowded tonight than last night—it was Sunday; yesterday had been Saturday—but I’d been wrong. There were just as many people out partying, and just as many of them were men trying to get my attention. It made Duane angry. His face flushed. “Can’t they see we’re together?” he demanded, after the second guy had been routed.
We weren’t really together, which was part of the problem. And my job here was to attract as many men’s attention as I could, to be sure the rapist, if he was here, would notice me.
I wondered whether I should just tell Duane the truth: that he had stumbled into an undercover operation and he was seriously cramping my style. He was a cop; he’d understand.
But it wasn’t really my place to do so. I was just on loan here; it was Will’s case. If Will wanted Duane to know, Will would tell him. Or tell me to tell him.
But I probably shouldn’t tell him myself, without Will’s specific say-so.
So I kept my mouth shut, and smiled politely, and tried to seem like it didn’t bother me that he was acting all possessive. Will would detach him. Any minute now.
And then he arrived.
The first I became aware of him, was when Duane’s face sort of congealed. “Oh,” he said.
I turned my head and saw Will standing next to me.
I’d seen him when he’d tested my microphone before setting out tonight. I hadn’t seen him after that, and in the time since, he’d changed into club clothes. There must be something in the air, because he and Duane looked like they could be part of the same SWAT-team, both in black pants and black shirts. But where Duane looked like a bodybuilder on break, Will managed to make his black slacks and black shirt look like high fashion. His hair was perfectly combed, to fall fetchingly over his forehead, and he smelled like sex and money.
Not literally, of course. He smelled of something spicy and clean. But he exuded both sex-appeal and wealth. A toxic combination.
Bianca had been right: Will was definitely hot.
“Hey, Duane.” He grinned. “What’re you doing here?”
I could hear his voice in stereo, through both my earbud and the air.
“Just hanging out,” Duane said. His personality seemed a little dimmed. I wasn’t sure whether it was because of the comparison to Will, or whether Will intimidated him. Given the glee with which he’d told me I’d put Will in his place two nights ago, it might be the latter.
“Got the night off?”
Duane nodded.
“Let me buy you a drink,” Will said and slapped his shoulder. Duane opened his mouth, glanced at me, and shut it again. I could sense the war taking place in his head. Stay with the pretty girl, hope to get laid... or go have a drink with the guy who’s related to everyone who’s anyone in the Miami PD, and who might be able to help his career.
I guess I should be flattered he hesitated at all.
They took off for the bar, and I went back to the dance floor. Will must have turned his microphone off, because I couldn’t hear him talking to Duane. I hoped he could still hear me. Although if he couldn’t, surely Cal could. They wouldn’t leave me hanging out here with no backup. Would they?
It must have been a good thirty minutes before Will came back online. “I had to clue him in,” his voice said in my ear. Updating both me and Cal, I guess. “He’ll leave you alone from now on.”
“Mmm,” I said, since I thought it was safe to say that much without anyone thinking I was talking to myself.
A guy standing next to me turned to give me a look, and when he saw who I was—or what I looked like—he grinned appreciatively. I smiled back, but not too warmly, since I didn’t want to give him any ideas.
“Let’s give it another thirty minutes before we call it a night,” Will added. “Go turn heads, Carmen.”
I went to turn heads.
It was close to twelve-thirty when Will told me to pack it in for the night. “Same procedure as last night. Walk outside. Look for a cab. Walk down to the corner. Give this guy a chance to come after you.”
I headed out, with my heart knocking against my ribs. No matter how many times we did this, I didn’t think I’d ever get used to it. That’s the thing about police work. Every time you go outside the door, you have to be on alert, just in case something were to happen. Most of the time it doesn’t. But you have to stay that way, because you never know if the one time you don’t pay attention is going to be the one time when you should have.
It’s no wonder a lot of cops, especially street cops, burn out early.
The street was dark and mostly deserted. A few other partiers left the club and headed the other way, but in the direction I was going, it was quiet. The farther I got from the club, the quieter it was.
I stopped on the same corner as yesterday and bent to adjust the ankle strap of my shoe. Like last night, I felt my skirt slide up the backs of my thighs. Irritated, I straightened and yanked it down, and heard Will chuckle in my ear. “Cal says to tell you you’re looking good.”
“Tell Cal to go to hell,” I muttered. The street was deserted. Nobody would care that I was talking to myself.
“He heard you,” Will told me, with laughter in his voice. “He says to tell you you’re cute when you’re mad.”
I scowled. At nothing in particular, since I had no idea where Cal was, or for that matter where Will was.
“There are no cabs,” he told me. “Walk another block. Let’s see if we can flush this guy out.”
I kept walking. Nothing happened. Will cursed. “Looks like we’ll be doing this again tomorrow. Sorry, Carmen.”
I had my mouth open to tell him it was no problem when he spoke again, his voice suddenly very much more tense. “There’s a dark sedan parked up the street in front of you.”
Yes, there was.
“Don’t hesitate,” Will warned me. “You wouldn’t know anything about dark sedans.”
No, I wouldn’t. I kept walking, mincing along on my four-inch heels with my booty swinging from side to side, peering up and down the street for a cab. Trying to look clueless. It isn’t hard to do, in high heels and a short dress. It isn’t hard to do when you have breasts, period.
Every step that brought me closer to the sedan sent my blood pressure soaring. By the time I was alongside it, I was about to jump out of my skin. Any second, I expected the door to open, and for someone to grab me.
But no one did.
I shot a sideways glance into the dark interior of the car. “Looks empty.” At least I couldn’t see anyone. If someone was there, he was either in the trunk, or huddled on the floor behind the seats.
“We’ll run the plate,” Will said in my ear.
“You want me to get it?” I slowed down to retrace a couple of steps to the rear of the car.
But he didn’t. “Cal’ll get it. You just keep walking.”
I kept walking. Down to the corner, and down the next street. Nothing happened. Will sighed. “Looks like we struck out again. See any cabs?”
I looked around. “No.”
“Stay where you are. I’m coming to pick you up.”
“What if he’s watching?”
“He’s not,” Will said. “If he was, he’d be talking to you right now. But if you see him before I get there, let me know.”
“Just keep the mic on,” I told him. “If I run into him, you’ll be the first to know.”
But I didn’t. A couple of cars drove by—none of them a dark sedan, nor for that matter a cab. Then Will pulled up to the curb next to me. I got in.
“I’ll take you home and get the mic,” he told me. “And hopefully you can sleep late tomorrow.”
I hoped so too. Another early morning phone call and trip to the hospital, to talk to another victim, wasn’t how I wanted to start another day.
“Any chance he wasn’t out there at all tonight? Maybe he was working.” Or not. He could be raping women while on duty, or while he had the night off. We just didn’t know.
“Anything’s possible,” Will said. He sounded depressed. “That’s part of the problem. He has no set schedule. It’s not like every Friday and Wednesday he finds another victim. So far it’s been all different days.”
“So he either works a different schedule each week, or he just attacks someone when the mood strikes him, whether he’s working or not.”
Will nodded.
“Have you thought about talking to the media?” So far, I hadn’t heard or seen anything about the assaults on TV or in the newspapers. The same thing had happened in Key West two years ago. Nobody wanted to scare away the tourists and students on spring break, so Stan’s spree had been kept very hush-hush. “It would put women on alert. And maybe get us—you—some leads.”
“Sure. On every cop and security guard in Miami.”
“It might be one of them,” I pointed out.
Will didn’t answer.
“Stan was a cop. Cops commit crimes, too.”
“You think I don’t know that?” He glanced at me. “Sorry. I’m just not looking forward to interviewing another woman tomorrow.”
I shook my head. I wasn’t either.
“And knowin
g that this might be a cop makes me angry. My whole family’s cops. It’s all I ever wanted to do. Serve and protect. Finding out that somebody’s using the badge to commit crimes pisses me off. And especially this kind of crime. A woman walking alone at night should be able to trust that the cop pulling up next to her is a good guy. She shouldn’t have to worry that he’ll take her into a dark alley and rape her.”
I nodded. I couldn’t agree more. “He might not be a cop. He could just be pretending to be one.”
“Six of one, half a dozen of the other,” Will told me. “Either way, he’s giving cops a bad name. And I want him gone.”
I wanted him gone, too, if not for that reason. “We’ll do it again tomorrow. And every night until we get him.”
Will nodded, and pulled up in front of my apartment building.
SEVEN
He walked me upstairs and peeled the microphone off my breast. And just like yesterday, he told Cal, “Go home and get some sleep. We’ll do it again tomorrow.”
Cal went on his way, or so I assumed. “How well do you know him?” I asked.
“Cal? We’ve worked together for three years.”
“So no chance he’s the guy we’re looking for?”
Will shook his head. “None. First of all, he’s black. Maria said the guy was white, or light-skinned. And she said he was shorter than me. Cal’s six-and-a-half feet tall. He played basketball in college. Besides, he’s been with us every night. In a white van.”
I nodded. “Just checking. Nobody thought to wonder about Stan. I don’t want to overlook the obvious suspect.”
“I’m the obvious suspect,” Will said.
“No, you’re not. You were with me every night.”
“You don’t know that. I could see you, but you couldn’t see me. You wouldn’t have known if I left the club and assaulted Maria and came back.”
Maybe not. He hadn’t, though. He’d been in my ear, talking about the guys who were hitting on me. If he’d been assaulting Maria, he wouldn’t have been able to do that. Besides— “You don’t have to rape anyone.”
“No one has to rape anyone.”
