by LS Sygnet
Somebody put me to bed in my underwear. I was not amused. The robe was flung over the end of the bed. I grabbed it with a vengeance. I shoved my arms into the silky sleeves and stomped out of the bedroom. Fine, it was less of a stomp and more of a hobble.
Orion's brows arched, comical with disapproval. "I thought I told you to go back to bed."
The urge grew ridiculous to throw out a petulant you're not the boss of me. Ignoring him was so much more mature. I steered in the general direction of his office. My laptop was exactly where I left it. Inside were the fax copies of the reports Sergeant Sexist had sent from Portico.
I glanced at my wrist. Naked. "Where's my Rolex?"
"On the stand beside your bed."
"Oh. Well what time is it?"
"Two-ish."
"Don't you have a thing to do today? Or a girl?"
His stomp was far more effective than mine. I felt an uncontrollable urge to cower away from it. Orion squatted in front of me.
"The only girl I have a thing with today is you. I'm not letting you out of my sight from now on, Doc. Got it? I'm not letting the FBI fail to protect you. I'm not letting Kelly and Varden near you for another shot at doing whatever it is they did to you yesterday."
I opened my mouth to protest and shrunk away from the determination in his eyes.
"Mean it, Doc. If I have to cuff you to my wrist, I'll do it."
"This is false imprisonment. I could arrest you."
"You think you're in any condition to throw down with me today? Go ahead. Try it. And after you fall on your ass, try convincing me that someone didn't do this to you."
"If you're so damned concerned, why didn't you take me to the hospital?"
"I came this close to it," his thumb and index finger were scant millimeters apart. "Winslow seems to think you brought this on yourself with stress, sleep deprivation and over use of stimulants to keep you going."
"Exhibit A, the coffee pot?"
His head rolled forward. "Why do you have to be so impossible, Helen? Is it really that awful that in a few short days, you managed to burrow under my skin and become someone I care about a whole hell of a lot?"
"I don't want my case to fall apart because I did something stupid."
"It's not gonna fall apart."
"We're beyond 48 hours out, Johnny." My throat tightened with a wad of gravel that miraculously appeared out of nowhere. "It matters. You know it as well as I do."
Another memory enveloped me. Orion's eyes sparked it. His tender gaze gripped my heart and squeezed so hard, I couldn't breathe.
"Why won't you trust me? I want to help you, Doc. Let me help you. You know I didn't do anything to Gwen. I couldn't."
"Protocol –"
"Be damned! Let me help you." Soft, succinct and utterly effective.
I felt the walls crumbling more than a little bit. He gripped my hands.
"Please?"
"I can't share details with you, Johnny. It wouldn't be right. You know that. I know you understand what I'm saying."
"Then let me help with other stuff."
"Like what? There isn't any other stuff right now."
His thumbs rubbed slow circles over the backs of my hands. "I can make sure nobody hurts you. I can make sure you're properly fed and watered."
I snorted. "You make me sound like a potted plant."
"You kinda acted like one last night. Doc, it scared the hell outta me."
"You could move my luggage to the house."
"That's the one thing I'm actually not willing to do," he grumbled.
"I can't stay here indefinitely. You know that too. You've got business. I've got work. You don't want me hanging around cramping your style, interfering with your thing."
"That wasn't what I said, or meant."
I pulled my hands free, surprised to miss the warm pressure so quickly and the caring their sheath communicated. "I'll make a deal with you."
He frowned. "I wasn't aware that this had become a negotiation."
"All of life is a negotiation, Johnny. This is our pact, if you prefer. I'll stick around here and take it easy for the rest of the afternoon. I'll eat, and drink and rest if you tell me to rest."
"I like it so far. Go on."
"If, by early evening, we can both agree that I show measurable improvement in my physical functioning, you'll agree to let Charlie and me talk to my ... person of interest, who is in no way a suspect, but could be the piece that moves this case forward to a swift resolution. After that conversation, which I can 99 percent guarantee will last no longer than an hour, I promise to come back here and let you play the doting caretaker for the rest of the night."
"It's the middle part I don't like."
"Meet me half way."
"No more than an hour, including transportation."
"Johnny –"
"Those are my terms. Take it or leave it. You could preserve your time with this person of interest by having Charlie bring him here, you know. I'd even make myself scarce for an hour and ten minutes, so his identity won't be revealed."
"I'd rather not."
"Then meet across the street at central."
"I would really rather not."
"LaPierre Bistro is next door to the Tower. It's quiet, intimate, a great place for having a discussion without eavesdropping." He paused for dramatic effect, I presumed. "Meet me half way, Doc."
"Fine," I sighed. "But if I can't have the benefit of talking to my person of interest in his or her natural habitat, there are no physical functioning conditions attached to this meeting. You'll let me call Charlie right now and have him set it up."
He grinned. "You are one hell of a negotiator, Doc. Damn."
"Deal?" I thrust my hand out to make it official.
"You wanna swap spit in that handshake or what?"
For some inexplicable reason, his suggestion conjured the image of the kiss that almost was Monday night. I realized that part of me would love nothing more than turn back the clock and let it unfold without interruption. Then again, it was his world that intruded on a moment long gone.
Chapter 27
Charlie Haverston showed up at Johnny's penthouse around four-thirty. He has the eyes of a cow. Large. Milk chocolate brown. Lashes out to here. If it were possible for eyes to have a lazy southern drawl, Charlie's would do it. Moo.
He's a sweet kid, in reality. Kid. He's probably ten years younger than me, fretting over thirty creeping up while his dreams of a detective squad waste away.
His concern was more than touching. The impact of my ordeal was far more profound coming from a man who hadn't professed how much he wanted to get into my pants. Or lied to me. Or got bossy and territorial with my personal freedom. I could go on.
Those drawling orbs followed me across the living room toward Orion's den. There was no faltering gait, no dizziness, no pauses to catch my breath. The hearty lunch Orion ordered was delivered by the very bistro that Charlie and I would later grace with our interview of Caroline Blevins.
"You're sure you're up to this, Helen?"
"I'm fine. Do I look like I had the sense knocked out of me last night?"
"No, but –"
"I am fine, well rested, at least two pounds heavier from lunch. Stop worrying already. Maya called to check on me about an hour ago, and even our resident expert on death is convinced that whatever happened to me has passed."
"If you're sure."
"I'm positive. Talk to me Charlie. What's happened since our last coherent update?"
"Do you remember me telling you about the key Forsythe found at the crime scene?"
"Yes. You were sending Thieg to scour possible locks it might open."
"Right."
"Did he turn up anything positive?"
"No. It's not a bank key or one that opens a locker at the airport or bus station."
"Well, I can't say that I'm surprised. Until we know the identity of the person it belonged to, it's probably a moot point. Unless of course, it ha
d opened a locker at the bus station and there was information that would've identified him for us."
"Well, that's the thing, Helen. We were sitting around at the crime lab last night brainstorming with Forsythe, and you're never gonna believe who showed up outta the blue."
"Who?"
"Flynn Myre."
"Is that a fact? Two nights this week he's strayed from home away from the wife. My, my. I'm probably making enemies I'm not even aware of in this city."
"Don't joke about that."
"Sorry. So what was Myre doing sniffing around? Wait, I think I just answered my own question. It's probably eating the three amigos that this case was taken out of their hands, so Myre draws the short toothpick and gets to spy on our investigation."
"Thing is, we had the photo of the key laying out in plain sight."
"Fantastic. I'll bet it's splashed on the front page of the morning edition."
"Myre thought it looked like a key to a home safe."
My interest piqued.
"And so Thieg started making some calls this morning. Turns out that the key looks like it opens a secure, but fairly cheap safe. It opens with two keys. So we went back to the house over lunch hour and tore through the place again."
"You found a second key?"
He nodded. "Forsythe's got it now, but this one had numbers that were clearly readable."
"Like I said, when we get a suspect, now we know to ask for the contents of the personal safe in the warrant."
"Datello called late last night, after I left here."
"Oh dear. I had almost forgotten about poor Vinnie. Did you talk to him?"
"No, I wanted to wait for you. I mean, didn't you say that his information about Gwen could tell you a lot that might help catch her killer?"
"Yes," I said, "but Charlie, this investigation can't hinge on my availability."
"He's coming in to talk to us first thing in the morning. I was able to meet with him for an initial chat when his flight landed. He knows why we want to talk to him. I hope that's okay."
"It's fine. You did the right thing."
"Datello wanted to drive him home, but I insisted and took him out to the Bennett farm myself. Did you know that he's got an uncle living?"
"No one close to the family bothered to mention that. Is this another Bennett brother?"
"No, his name is Harlan Hartley. Apparently he's a maternal uncle who became close to the family after Vinnie's parents died when he was an infant. He'd like to be present when we talk to Vinnie. I said that would be left to your discretion."
"I'd like to talk to both of them, Charlie. Good job."
"Adams has been trying to find Candy Blevins."
I blew out a slow breath. "Any luck?" As the afternoon progressed, parts of Thursday became clearer to me.
A cell phone rang before Charlie had the chance to respond. He checked his. "Sorry, Helen, it must be yours."
"That's not what my phone sounds –"
Orion appeared out of nowhere and thrust a new phone under my nose. "The other one is history. I'm not having these guys tracking a phone I doubt is secure, Doc. I trust the Apple brand meets your standards."
And he accused me of being impossible. Still, the iPhone was a nifty looking gadget, and I had boycotted PCs more than a decade ago in favor of the Mac. I slid my finger across the glossy screen and held the phone to my ear. "Eriksson."
"Took you damn long enough to answer. I was about to dash out the door and make sure you're all right, and, if finding you were not, brain Orion for not calling me immediately."
"Maya."
"I've got some DNA in front of me. Interested in hearing the results?"
"Like you wouldn't believe. What did you find out?"
"Seventeen sexual assaults reported in a 50 or so mile radius around Bay County where DNA was collected were compared to the sample I obtained from Gwen Foster's body. Fourteen identical matches."
"Jesus. A dozen plus two."
"Yep. So I got to thinking that your brilliance might actually overshadow some of mine."
"You found more?" I could hear my watch ticking, which is impossible, because Rolexes don't tick, they sweep. "Would you stop being a drama queen and tell me already?"
"Well, as you know in the grand scope of science, particularly forensics, we haven't been gathering DNA all that long."
"You didn't get any hits."
"No, but I did comb through the ViCAP cases on the fourteen matches and uncovered some disturbing similarities."
"Such as?"
"Not important for now. What I did was alter your search just a tad bit, expanded the upper age limit by four years."
"Oh God," I groaned. "He assaulted outside the range I established?"
"I'm getting there."
"Please. Before my perp dies of old age while I wait for you to sum up what you learned."
Maya chuckled. "It's good to have you back, Helen. Now where was I?"
"Expanded search by four years."
"Oh yes. I also added the peculiarities that jumped out and differentiated the fourteen DNA match cases. I found three in Southern California – get this, almost thirty years ago. All three girls were nineteen, co-eds at UC San Diego. The kicker is that the evidence was collected but because it was so long ago, DNA testing was never performed."
"Back up," I said. I still hadn't thoroughly reviewed the Blevins reports that had been faxed to me, thanks to Johnny Orion's persistent hovering and near constant feeding. "What were those specific case report peculiarities?"
"A very tall man, wearing a black hood, threatened to get this – chop off their hands if they fought him."
"Oh my God!" I scrambled for my laptop and tore the hinge open. My eyes devoured the first report, Caroline Blevins's. Victim identifies her attacker as a white male, extremely tall, average strength and musculature who threatened to cut off her hands if she fought him, while at the same time, taunting her to resist him. "Jesus, that's it. That's his trigger. He wants the fight."
"Uh-huh. Creepy, huh? So I made a quick phone call to SoCal to see if by some miraculous chance they hung onto their evidence."
"Oh Maya. I love you, I love you, I love you!"
"Hold on. They're going to see if anything can be collected from the evidence they held onto and if there is enough, they'll process it for DNA sampling."
"I want you to do it."
"Well, that isn't gonna happen. It's their case. In fact, if you ever catch this psycho, they may want to extradite him. California still has an active death row."
"Not for rapists."
"One of the victims of the sexual assault died, Helen."
"Shit. Because of the rape?"
"The sheriff told me that it was a direct result, a foreseeable consequence of it, so yes, they'd at least like the opportunity to turn it into a capital offense."
"She committed suicide."
"He wasn't that specific, but yeah, that was the impression that I got," Maya said. "I asked him if it would be possible, if they can get a useable sample, to put a rush job on it. He's an old guy, Helen. I think he might've been a deputy at the time these rapes happened. He said to consider it done, and that he didn't care if California couldn't afford such an indulgence, he wanted nails in this guys coffin, the more the better."
"Could you do me a favor? Shoot the case numbers from ViCAP to me in an email."
"Love to. Give me the address."
When we disconnected, Charlie was staring. Orion was scowling. I couldn't imagine why he looked so unhappy. My enthusiasm should've communicated that our case was actually heating up, not going cold.
"Fourteen?" Charlie's stricken expression deepened while I appreciated his discreet communication of its cause.
Orion on the other hand, pounded a fist into the wall. "There are more girls out there that he slaughtered? I'm gonna find Masconi and –"
"You're going to do nothing of the kind. Johnny, you're breaking our agreement. You promised that y
ou wouldn't butt into this investigation if I stayed here until I'm feeling better. Don't make me decide that that time has arrived." It hadn't.
I still felt oddly fatigued in a way I hadn't experienced before. When I woke earlier this afternoon, my symptoms reminded me of the multiple times I relied on wine to get me through what Rick had done to my life. In other words, a simple hangover. And while I still had only hazy recollections of yesterday, I couldn't put my finger on what, if anything would've made me stray from the focus of this case. Like I said, it was a surprise to me too, but this thing really started to matter to me. I felt like it might be the anchor that kept me from snapping, climbing the highest building in the city with a rifle and scope and randomly contributing to population control.
My limbs still ached, particularly my left arm around the elbow. I rubbed it absently.
"You're bruised."
"What?"
Orion was frowning at me. "Did you hear a thing I just said to you?"
"You said I'm bruised."
"Before that, Doc."
I glanced at the small purple mark on my left antecubital fossa. Maya must've drawn blood. That was a pretty standard occurrence when someone had an alteration in mental status. Other than a blood alcohol level off the charts, she would've mentioned it had the results shown anything else.
"It's nothing." I continued to massage the tiny mark absently.
"Since you seem to still be afflicted with bouts of regression into la-la land, I'll repeat myself. You're leaving over my dead body."
Be careful what you wish for, Orion. You might get it.
Chapter 28
I sent Orion on a fool's errand – tracking down my car – to provide a private moment with Charlie. We had some serious plotting to do tonight.
"You probably don't remember me telling you this, Helen, but your car is across the street in Central Division's parking building."
"I remember," I said. "I needed to get rid of Johnny for awhile. Listen. I want you to get someone to drive my car over to my house. The realtor dropped off the keys and the remote for the gate yesterday. I'm getting out of here tonight. I appreciate what Johnny's been doing, but I can stay with Maya for a couple of days if I really need to be around someone." The idea appealed to me. "In fact, I think we should put my overnight bag in your car, and you should deliver me there after our other interview tonight."
