Jamie Hill Triple Threat (A Cop In The Family)

by Jamie Hill

  Mel gazed at him levelly.

  He smiled. "I think she should have her mama's eyes. There's nothing prettier in this whole wide world."

  She exhaled and let loose a low, seductive chuckle.

  He jerked his hips so she could feel his rampant erection.

  Mel released one hand so she could reach for a foil packet on the nightstand.

  Nate took advantage and flipped her onto her back, straddling her in return. "Gotta keep your guard up, Detective." He took the packet from her and ripped it open with his teeth.

  "Prick," she teased.

  "Yeah, I got one. You want it?"

  "Oh yeah." She watched him sheath himself and gripped his arms as he drove forward.

  Nate held her close, cradling her in his arms. "Thank you, Mel. Thanks for accepting me for who I am."

  She slid her arms around his waist. "I love who you are."

  They pulled away and grinned at each other.

  "That was freaking close," he said.

  She rolled her eyes. "I know, right? What was I thinking?"

  * * * *

  Nate showered quietly the next morning but Mel never stirred from her sleep. He gathered their clothes from the floor and piled them neatly on the dresser. Before he left he took her gun and set it on the nightstand next to her, leaving her phone in the kitchen so it wouldn't ring and wake her. He pulled the bedroom door shut and crept out.

  He was halfway to the department when he remembered he'd left his back-up gun in the bureau drawer. He had his Glock, so it didn't really matter.

  The homicide bullpen was quiet, a few people working, but most not in yet. Nate poured a cup of coffee and stood in Reeder's doorway. "Morning."

  "Hey Willis. Any progress?" The captain had a bottle of antacid on his desk. Either it was always there, or it was already a bad day.

  "Some." Nate nodded. "I'm expecting a call from one of my analysts. I hope that'll shed some light on things."

  "Keep me posted. This is nasty business. I don't like it at all."

  "I don't either. I'd rather be busting bad guys than cops."

  "IA sent me a memo. Curtis' hearing is tomorrow at one p.m."

  "Tomorrow." Nate inhaled. "That's not much time."

  "They can't keep this out of the press any longer. The media already knows we picked up someone in the slasher case, and had to let him go. It's going to get uglier from here on out."

  "Understood." Keeping the press at bay was one of the most frustrating parts of his job, too.

  "If you talk to Curtis, have her call me. She'll need some character witnesses to speak on her behalf at the hearing. We need to get together and pick some names."

  "I will." He ducked out of the office and entered the war room before many more people showed up. He glanced at his watch, knowing it was still too early to call Mel. They were up late into the night and she needed her rest. Besides, once she woke she'd have nothing to do but worry. The longer she could sleep, the better.

  Stone joined him. "Morning."

  "Henry," he acknowledged.

  "How's Mel?" He took a seat.

  Nate shrugged. "Keeping her spirits up so far. Reeder just told me her hearing is tomorrow afternoon. We've got twenty-four hours to crack this case. After that, Mel is screwed."

  Stone frowned. "As much as I hate to say it, I like Tanner for this. He's the only one with means and motive that I've come across so far."

  "Maybe." Nate nodded, and his phone rang. He punched the talk button. "Willis."

  "Hey, it's Marshall. Sheila woke up."

  "How is she?" he asked excitedly.

  "Like a burned piece of toast. Can't remember anything and the doctor says it's possible she never will. But physically she's going to make it."

  Nate sighed. "Well, that's the important thing. Give her my best."

  "You don't understand. She doesn't remember anything. Me, you, even who she is. The chick is totally fried."

  "Jesus." Nate shook his head.

  "They're going to keep her here for a while. I told the doc I'd get Social Services involved and maybe we can help her when she's ready to get out. Find her a place to stay and all that. We'll have to see how she does, and if she ever remembers anything."

  "Okay. Thanks Marshall."

  "Anything you need me to do today?"

  "Not that I can think of. If I do, I'll get back to you."

  "You bet."

  Nate ended the call and relayed the information to Stone.

  "Poor Sheila. This case just gets sadder and sadder." Stone said.

  "Burton Webb and his money strike again. I would really like to get my hands on that man."

  "And his sleazy son. I'm still stunned that we had to let him walk. There was so much evidence against him. We saw it. Now that means nothing."

  "It still means something." Nate clenched a fist. "We know Dick Webb is our man. We just have to find a new way to prove it. After we take care of Mel, that is."

  "Of course."

  Willis' phone rang again, and as he took the call from Steve, Stone left the room. Nate jotted notes and details down in his notebook. Steve and his team had been running credit card records on everyone in the WPD. Most showed typical weekday purchases, food, gasoline, groceries. One card had recently been used to purchase an expensive Prada handbag, several thousand dollars' worth of clothes, and an upcoming trip to Jamaica.

  Nate had his first glimmer of hope by the time the call ended.

  He took a moment to compose himself and gather his thoughts. He had to handle this tactfully and very carefully. When he was ready, he walked to the door and looked at Samantha Becker. "Becker, could you give me just a minute, please?"

  She glanced up at him and smiled. "Of course, Agent Willis. I'll be right there."

  He nodded and returned to the room, continuing to organize his words. It took him a while to realize that several minutes had gone by and she hadn't joined him. He walked back over to the door.

  Becker was gone.

  "Where is she?" he asked Stone at the next desk.

  Stone glanced around. "No idea. I thought she went in there."

  Nate asked loudly, "Anyone see where Becker went?"

  The detectives at surrounding desks all shook their heads.

  He pointed to a thin, dark-haired woman he'd met once or twice, "Megan", her nametag read. "I need you to check the ladies room, please."

  "Sure." She strolled in that direction and returned just as leisurely. "Nope, not in there."

  Nate went to the desk closest to the elevator. "Did you see Becker come this way?"

  "No," another woman said.

  He turned to Stone. "Where else could she go? What's the alternative way out?"

  "The stairs are that way," Stone pointed. "They go all the way down to the patio in back where people smoke or take a break."

  "Go!" Nate commanded.

  Stone took off running.

  Nate looked at Reeder who was standing in his office doorway. "Call downstairs and tell them to stop Samantha Becker if she tries to leave. I'm guessing she'll use the back exit, but with her kind of moxie I wouldn't be surprised if she waltzed out the front god-damned door."

  "I'm on it," Reeder called.

  Nate rode the elevator to the first floor, tapping his foot impatiently the whole way. Becker had a jump on them, but if her lead wasn't too much, he might still have the advantage since she took the stairs.

  The elevator doors opened and he had no idea where to go from there. He followed a long hallway, stopping to check the doors on either side along the way. Most were locked. When he found one unlocked, he drew his weapon and nudged it open. It was a storage room. Nate flipped on the lights and confirmed the place was empty.

  He continued down the hall, frustration welling in his gut. He should have asked for more help. Time was wasting as he checked each door. Becker could already be outside, strolling down the sidewalk.

  Most of the remaining doors were locked. The last
one before the hallway branched off was open, and he peered inside. A conference room. He slapped on the switch at the same time something whacked him up the side of the head.

  Nate staggered for a moment as Becker rushed past him and out of the room.

  He raised his gun and stepped into the hallway. "Freeze!" His eyes were blurry but he could get off a shot in her general direction if he had to.

  Becker threw her hands in the air. "I'm unarmed."

  Nate paused a moment for his vision to clear. He felt a trickle of something warm running down his temple and realized he was bleeding. He wiped it with the back of his arm. Not much blood. He'd be fine.

  "Sorry about that." She giggled.

  Bile rose in his throat. All the trouble she'd caused, and now she stood giggling like a school girl. He wished he could pull the trigger or at the very least, slap her. He never would. He resorted to his only recourse, questioning her. "What were you thinking?"

  A thoughtful expression crossed her face. "When I carried that bag to work, I don't know what I was thinking. Just wanting to show off a bit, I guess. That was my mistake, wasn't it?"

  "One of many. I think accepting money from Burton Webb to lose the evidence was a bigger mistake."

  "That's your opinion. You know how long it would take me to earn a million dollars working here?"

  "About an hour, it would seem." Nate whistled. "A million dollars, huh? Webb spared no expense. He knew how bad the case was against his son."

  She smiled. "He offered me half a million. I jokingly told him to double that and I'd take it. He did it, and here we are."

  Nate shook his head. "Off and running and you never looked back. Only stopped long enough to throw Mel under the bus."

  She screwed up her face. "Mel, Mel, Mel. I'm sick of hearing about poor Mel. She has everything and she doesn't even know it. A father who loves her, a good job where she gets lots of respect—"

  "You had that too. Everyone told me how sharp you were. A real up and comer, they said. You were going places in the department."

  "Only if I could get away from my alcoholic father who drank my pay as fast as I earned it."

  "I'm sorry about that, Sam. It sucks, it really does. But this isn't the way to handle it."

  She cocked her head at him quizzically. "And along came you. I practically threw myself at you, but the hotshot agent only had eyes for Mel. Mel wins again. I was sick of it. Something had to be done."

  A door opened in the hallway branch beside her and it captured both of their attention for a moment.

  Stone raced in from the stairwell exit and stumbled into Becker.

  She grabbed him, wrestling the gun from his hand and pressing it to his temple. Her eyes focused on Nate. "Well now, this makes things more interesting, doesn't it?"

  Chapter Twelve

  Mel yawned and stretched. She felt so good, she almost forgot the trouble she was in.

  "Now that is a pretty sight. I could sit here watching you sleep all day."

  She rubbed her eyes and smiled. It took her the briefest of moments to register it wasn't Nate's voice she heard. Gathering the covers around her neck, she glanced toward the foot of the bed.

  Dick Webb had pulled a kitchen chair into the room and was sitting in it, arms folded across his chest.

  Mel froze, panic welling within her. She knew she needed to keep a clear head, so she tamped the fear down. "How did you get in?"

  He showed her a small, curved blade. "Glass cutting tool. Remarkably easy, really. Find a window on the back side of the house and cut a hole in it. Reach in, unlock it, and shove it open. Works every time. Nice and quiet, too."

  She blinked. Had he used that trick on his other victims? Most of them had been street walkers, and he hadn't needed to. She made a mental note to check out that MO when she got to the office. If I get back to the office.

  She tried to glance toward the nightstand without his noticing, but he didn't miss a thing.

  "I've got your gun, and your phone. Might as well put those out of your mind, Mama."

  Mel gazed at him. Naked with just the covers between them, she was vulnerable and exposed. If he wanted to rape her, there'd be nothing stopping him. Her gut clenched and for an instant she thought she might be sick. Talk to him. It was her only option. "I'm not your mother. You know that, Dick."

  He pulled a bigger knife from his pocket. "I know you're gonna be whoever I want you to be. I'm gonna call you 'Mama', and you'll call me 'Dickie'. If you don't like it, our little game will end a lot sooner. It'll be disappointing for me, but I can live with it." He smiled. "Not sure you can."

  "Okay," she agreed. "I'll play along."

  His smiled widened. "I thought you might. Get out of bed. I want to see what you're wearing."

  Mel glanced under the covers then up at him. "Which would be not much. I'll just use this sheet…." She pulled it free and tried to wrap it around her chest.

  "Leave the sheet. Get up."

  Shit! Mel tossed her legs over the side of the bed and spotted the teddy Nate bought her on the dresser. She pointed to it. "Look what I just got, Dickie. Wouldn't you like to see me in this?"

  He glanced at the lingerie then looked at her. "Did you wear it for him? Did he peel you out of it before he fucked you?"

  "I've never worn it. Look, the tags are still on. Let me put it on for you."

  He nodded. Mel stood, humiliated by her nakedness, but forcing herself to move. She grabbed the teddy and clutched it to her breasts. "I need to pee."

  "Then pee. Nobody will notice the wet spot on the carpet by the time I'm done with you."

  She scowled. "If you want me to play nice then you better do the same. Let me use the bathroom. I'll come right back out."

  "Whatever." He waved a hand. "Leave the door open."

  Mel hurried to the bathroom and used the toilet, feeling more degraded by the minute as Webb leaned against the doorway and watched. She finished and washed her hands, then climbed into the teddy and prayed it fit. It did, but it barely covered the important parts.

  "I like that." He stood behind her and examined her reflection in the mirror.

  He stunk of piss and beer. The odor made her gag. When he placed a hand on her shoulder she shrank away and he grabbed a handful of her hair.

  "Stand up, bitch!"

  Mel gathered her courage. If she was going to survive this, she'd have to be strong. In her sternest voice she commanded, "Don't speak to me that way Dickie. Show your mother some respect."

  He yanked her hair and sneered, his face mere inches from hers. "I'll show you all the respect you deserve, Mother. You're a whore. You were always a whore. You fucked Daddy and you fucked me, but that still wasn't enough. You brought strangers into the house and fucked them, too. Whore." He raised his knife to the chunk of hair he clutched.

  "I'm sorry!" She called out. "I was bad. I was wrong, so wrong. You were my baby and I should have taken care of you, protected you. Let me protect you now. I can help you. I can make things better."

  He looked into the reflection of her eyes. "There's only one way to do that. Every time I kill you, I feel better. Oh, it hurts a little at first, but then sweet satisfaction pours over me, and I get some relief. For a while, anyway. Then the urges come back, and it starts all over again."

  She watched him through the mirror. "So all the women you killed were stand-ins for me? Donna, Rhonda, Linda … and the last one, what was her name?"

  "The last one you know about," he sneered. "Her name was Sissy. She was a beauty. I'm glad I got my pictures back. I really hated to lose my pictures. Daddy got rid of most of my stuff, but I got to keep my pictures."

  Mel grew bolder. "Sissy was a beauty? She was freaking fifty years old! What were you thinking choosing women that old? They didn't look like me at all."

  He pressed his cheek against hers. "Exactly the point. You're beautiful, but you were a lousy mother. I'm looking for someone who might be more … 'motherly'. Bake cookies, and all that. So fa
r, the bitches have all been the same."

  "I can bake cookies," she offered. "You can help me. We'll make great cookies. What kind do you like? Chocolate chip?"

  "It's too late. I told you, you're all the same. You'll have to die like they did." He jerked Mel by the arm out of the bathroom, and threw her to the bedroom floor.

  It was then she noticed the pile of things by his chair. Several more knives, a bundle of ropes, and an old, white cheerleading uniform folded carefully on top of the stack.

  * * * *

  Nate leveled his weapon at Becker. "Let him go, Sam."

  "I don't think so. Stone's my ticket out of here. Small, compact, easy to transport." She spoke in Stone's ear. "Thanks for making it so easy on me, Henry."

  He struggled under her grasp. "I trusted you, Sam. How could you do this?"

  "Money talks and bullshit walks, my friend. You and I are out of here. We'll see if this bullshit special agent walks after us or not."

  "You're not going anywhere." Nate eyed her coolly. "It's over. Put the gun down, and things will go easier for you. Drag it out any longer, and you're not going to like what happens."

  She scowled at Nate. "I really won't like splattering poor little Henry's brains all over the wall. It'll positively ruin my shoes. But we do what we have to."

  "I won't like that either," Stone muttered.

  "Shut up." Becker nudged him with the gun.

  The stairwell door opened again and a voice called, "SWAT team, Becker, drop your weapon!"

  "Fat chance!" She yelled. "Stone and I are getting out of here." She took a step backwards, dragging Stone with her.

  "You can leave through that door," the man said, "but Stone stays here. We won't come after you."

  Bullshit, Nate thought, but kept quiet.

  Becker laughed. "I'm so sure. You're just going to let me waltz right out of here."

  The man's voice lowered. "They're not, but I am. You aren't the only one on Burton Webb's payroll. I'm offering you a way out. If you're too stupid to take it, I won't sleep any worse tonight. But Mr. Webb suggested I try."

  Becker appeared confused. "What are you talking about?"

  Nate couldn't see who was around the corner, but he heard every word.