Sleight of Hand

by CJ Lyons

  Cassie moved around to sit in Jimmy's seat as he lifted a carton of evidence from his desk. "I'm going to get this logged in. Hey Janet, keep an eye on my guy for me, will ya?"

  The other detective waved her hand without looking up.

  Cassie curled her finger around the phone cord, wishing for more privacy. "How's your mother?"

  "Down for another CT," Drake told her. "But Park was by already, said she's doing ‘better than expected'" he mimicked the neurosurgeon's clipped tones. "Says she ought to make a full recovery, probably go home in another day or two."

  "That's great." She wanted to ask about the ER videos but was afraid to jinx herself.

  "Three Rivers won't release the security tapes without a court order," he told her, and she sighed. More waiting. "I convinced them to dupe me a small segment. Summers is waiting for the court order to bring the original, but I'm on my way back to the House now." He paused.

  She edged forward, almost leaving the chair. "Did you find anything?"

  His chuckle resonated through the phone line. "Oh yeah, I think you'll find this very interesting."

  "You found her?" Cassie felt her body bounce against the chair seat. "You've got Virginia on video taking the lidocaine from the ER?"

  "Clear as daylight."

  She didn't know what to say. Unable to sit still any longer, she pushed away from the chair and paced around behind it, as far as the phone cord would stretch. Finally solid proof that her instincts about Virginia Ulrich were valid. "Someone's watching Antwan?"

  "Yes, and security is on the lookout for Virginia. We'll send some uniforms over to help them after shift change."

  She saw Kwon move toward the interview room where Jimmy's prisoner waited for his attorney. The squad room was empty except for them. Kwon looked through the one-way glass of the room then stiffened, hurrying to unlock the door.

  "Hart, get over here," she shouted. "He's choking on something!"

  Kwon disappeared inside the room as Cassie dropped the phone and moved to join her. She could hear Drake's voice calling her name.

  Kwon turned around in the doorway. "Hurry, he's turning colors," she urged, then twisted back inside the room.

  When Cassie reached the doorway, Kwon was on the ground face down. A brown-haired man held a gun. He whirled on Cassie.

  "Don't move!" he shouted. "Who are you? You a cop?"

  Cassie shook her head, her mouth too dry to find the words. The man sprang to his feet, his movements jittery with adrenalin, and grabbed Cassie's arm. "C'mon, we're getting out of here."

  He dragged her into the squad room, backing toward the door while he looked around for any resistance. Kwon emerged from the interview room.

  "Don't do this, Mendelsohn," she shouted at the man.

  "Stop where you are!" His voice was high-pitched, choked with fear. He wrapped his arm around Cassie, using her as a shield, his right hand aiming the gun at her temple. "Keep your hands where I can see them!" He jumped as Kwon slowly brought her hands, palm up, in front of her.

  "I'm not going to hurt you," Kwon said in a low voice. "I just want to talk. Your lawyer's on his way–he can straighten this all out. You have to let her go, that's all."

  Mendelsohn tapped the gun against Cassie's head. She tried not to flinch as the cold metal touched her flesh. The hand that held the gun shook. Then she realized that his entire body was trembling. She closed her eyes and prayed his trigger finger was steady.

  <><><>

  Drake held the cell phone clenched close to his ear and steered one-handed. Damn it, what was going on? He heard shouted voices but couldn't make out the words.

  He squealed into the Zone Seven parking lot and left the car running as he ran inside.

  "What's the hurry, lover boy?" Spanos almost collided with Drake. The uniformed officer was already dressed for his shift.

  "Something's wrong in the squad room," Drake told him, yanking open the stairwell door. "Get backup!"

  "You don't even have a gun," Spanos reminded him.

  "Hart's up there," Drake said by way of explanation. Footsteps pounded behind him. Spanos quickly caught up and passed Drake.

  Drake's thigh muscles were screaming at him to slow down, but he stayed on the larger man's heels until they rounded the landing for the third floor. One more flight.

  "Quiet now," Drake yanked on Spanos' belt to slow the younger cop down. Spanos nodded his agreement, and they climbed the rest of the way in a slow, silent crouch. Spanos had his gun drawn, aiming it up the stairs to where the unknown subject would have to exit the squad room.

  They reached the squad room's open door. Across from them Kwon stood, hands spread wide. In between them a man stood, his back to them, a gun in his right hand. The man turned slightly, and Drake recognized Mendelsohn. But all of his attention was drawn to Hart and the gun pointed at her head.

  Spanos held his gun in the regulation two-handed Weaver stance, but his hands trembled. He used one hand to wipe sweat from his eyes and resumed his position. Drake looked over at him and realized that the patrolman had never been in a hostage situation before–probably had never used his gun off the range.

  It didn't help knowing that he and Spanos usually tied for the bottom of the rankings every time they had to re-certify. Jimmy and Kwon were the sharpshooters of the House.

  "If you shoot me there, I won't be much good to you," Hart told Mendelsohn. Drake couldn't believe how calm she sounded. "I'll be dead and then the police will just kill you."

  She turned her head the slightest bit, just enough to make eye contact with the gunman. Good girl, let him see you as a person. He wasn't certain if Hart could see him and Spanos, but he knew she was getting ready to do something.

  He placed his hand out and after a moment's hesitation, Spanos gave Drake his forty caliber Glock.

  "You're right," Mendelsohn said in grudging admiration.

  "I want to get out of this alive, just like you," Hart continued as Drake strained to get a clear shot.

  He could see why Spanos had hesitated. It was an impossible shot. Drake raised his hand, sighting the gun in line with his gaze, as if it was a brush and the tableau before him was a canvas. Suddenly he saw his shot clear as day. He twisted into position, raised the Glock.

  <><><>

  "Why don't we work together?" She paused. "My name is Cassie, what's yours?"

  "Darin." His eyes darted away from her and back to Kwon. "I told you not to move!" he screamed at Kwon.

  Cassie saw that Kwon had edged toward them slightly. She knew the detective would be carrying a backup weapon. Drake usually kept his in an ankle holster when he was on duty–would Kwon do the same? She had to distract him long enough for Kwon to reach it.

  "So how about down here?" Mendelsohn asked earnestly, moving his gun to aim at Cassie's belly. "This wouldn't kill you right away, would it?"

  If he shot her there, she'd probably end up paralyzed. The muscles and flesh of her abdomen recoiled, pulling away from the gun and the hand that held it there.

  "Not right away," she agreed through clenched teeth. His left arm held hers behind her back. Her right arm wasn't as restricted as he squeezed her in an unholy embrace.

  "Good," he said, his voice breaking. "Then we're leaving now."

  Cassie took a breath in, focusing on his gun hand. Now or never. He took a step back. She plunged all her weight forward, throwing him off balance. She grabbed for the gun hand, twisting it away from her body, leaning forward and sinking her teeth into his wrist. He yanked her left arm, wrenching it until she feared her shoulder would dislocate.

  The gun went off, the explosion deafening in Cassie's ears. It was quickly followed by two more shots as she fought free and threw herself to the floor.

  The coppery smell of blood and gunpowder rained down on her. She opened her eyes to see Kwon kicking Mendelsohn's gun away, straddling him and snapping on handcuffs. Cassie's ears filled with a deafening roar.

  She pushed herself into a sitting
position and suddenly Drake's arms were around her and she could breathe again. He turned her towards him, his hands searching her body for damage, his lips moving, but she couldn't hear what he was saying. He gathered her into his arms, holding her tight. His breath was jagged as it vibrated through his chest, and she felt his heart pounding when she lay her head down. After a few moments her hearing began to return, and she could hear him whispering her name.

  "I'm fine," she said and realized her voice was too loud. "I'm fine," she tried again, this time there was no answering echo in her ears. She pushed back in his embrace, only enough to turn her head and look over at Mendelsohn.

  "Is he? Can I–" She was ashamed that she really didn't want to help the child killer. She swallowed. "Is there anything I can do?"

  Kwon rocked back on her heels, allowing Cassie a good look at the killer's body. "Pronounce him," she said with satisfaction. "That was good shooting, DJ."

  Mendelsohn's upper face was obliterated and there was another wound in his left upper chest. She turned to Drake. "You shot him?"

  "Spanos lent me his service piece. I saw you lunge forward, so I took the head shot, figured it was safest." He glowered at Kwon.

  "Hey, I didn't hit her, did I?" the detective defended herself. "You should always go for the biggest target, the body shot, so I did."

  The thunder of footsteps rang out as other cops filled the room. Cassie knew that there would be interviews and statements and forms to fill out, but she ignored the swirl of activity around her, content to be cradled, safe in Drake's arms.

  <><><>

  When Miller arrived a short time later, the noise level immediately dropped. She called Kwon to her office first, then after she'd dismissed her, summoned Drake and Jimmy Dolan. Drake held onto Hart's hand, and Miller nodded her acceptance of Hart's presence.

  Jimmy and Hart sat in the two chairs in front of Miller's desk. Drake took his position behind Hart, one hand on her shoulder, the other still entwined with hers as she held it up to him.

  "It's lucky for you that Dr. White's fax is timed hours before the shooting, otherwise we might have a mess on our hands," Miller began, addressing Drake. "I know you already spoke to the Officer Involved Team. But I'm interested in hearing exactly how you came to be using Officer Spanos' service weapon."

  "Officer Spanos had something in his eye, obscuring his vision, so he gave me his weapon to use," Drake said, keeping his voice formal.

  Miller cut him a look that said she didn't believe a word of it, but changed the subject. "What's Mendelsohn's story?"

  Jimmy answered. "The whiz kids hit pay dirt with his computer. Seems he kept a journal for posterity. Documented how he'd spend all summer weeding through potential victims, then work to gain his special boy's trust. It was all a game to him, outwitting third graders," he said with disgust.

  "He detailed various ways he'd manipulate the boys, coerce them into silence. Even how disappointed he was when he finally had to resort to violence to ensure silence and cooperation. Like it was one big psychology experiment, research for a journal article or some shit like that. Oh and if that's not enough," Jimmy smiled again, "he collected trophies from each boy and left detailed plans of each murder: time, place, method, observation point so he could watch his kids find the victim. Whole nine yards."

  "Too bad we couldn't have found him before he started killing. If just one of those boys had come forward–"

  "Pretty unlikely," Jimmy told her. "Pedophiles are experts at manipulating kids–making them unwilling participants in their own abuse and too guilty and ashamed to speak of it later. This guy could've kept operating for years."

  Drake felt a shiver race through Hart's body. "So, case closed on Mendelsohn, right?"

  "Except for the shooting review. Kwon's in with IAD now. Three days inactive for both of you until Internal Affairs' and Dr. White's reports are completed."

  "But, I just–"

  Miller arched an eyebrow at him, and he shut up. Jimmy raised a hand to cover his grin, but not before Drake caught it.

  "Take the holiday and don't argue, Detective," Miller told him, her glance settling on Hart for a moment. "I told Dr. White you'd be in to see him on Tuesday."

  Drake opened his mouth to protest the delay and thought better of it. "Yes ma'am," he said meekly.

  "Now get out of here, I've got a press conference to put together."

  Jimmy started out the door, and Hart got to her feet. "Any word on Virginia Ulrich?" she asked Miller.

  "No. Turns out she and her husband have separate bedrooms so he didn't know she was missing. She could be anywhere."

  "She'll go after Charlie, I'm certain of it. Is someone guarding him?"

  "He's under video surveillance, and we've got someone on the floor," Miller told her. "Not that I expect her to get that far."

  Drake watched as Hart chewed her lip, obviously not sharing Miller's optimism. He tugged at her hand, leading her to the door.

  "Drake," Miller called him back. "Your father would have been proud."

  He turned away to hide his smile. It was probably the nicest thing Miller had ever said to him.

  <><><>

  It was so easy to lose yourself in the routine of a busy hospital, Virginia Ulrich thought as she sipped her coffee in the OR's nursing lounge. So many people coming and going, each too busy with their own affairs to notice anyone else. Especially if you looked and acted like you belonged there.

  She turned the volume up on the TV. The camera crews hadn't gotten to Three Rivers in time to film Hart's arrest, but they made up for it by re-broadcasting highlights of the press conference from yesterday and discussing the doctor's detention, while flashing the photo that had appeared in the paper this morning.

  The bitch got what she deserved. She had no right to try to take Charlie from her, to make people think Virginia had done anything wrong, to pry into Virginia's private life. Well, Cassandra Hart would think twice now, wouldn't she?

  Virginia smiled. Almost time to end the charade. By now CYS should have backed down. She'd make sure things were all right on Peds, then change into her own clothes and go back to her own son, her own life. And if CYS hadn't dropped the charges, then she'd head outside instead and talk to those nice people in front of the cameras.

  No one was going to stand between her and her son. Not now, not ever.

  Virginia left the crushed coffee cup on the table behind her. She took the stairs down to Peds and was about to step triumphantly to the nurses' station when she almost ran into two police officers. She ducked back into the stairwell, leaving the door ajar so that she could hear what they were saying to the nurses at the desk.

  "We need to find Mrs. Ulrich," one was saying.

  "Why?" Carol, one of Virginia's friends, snapped. "You already took her son away, what more do you want?"

  "Look lady, we need to take her in for questioning. Have you seen her?"

  "Not today. What do you need to question Virginia about? She hasn't been allowed near Charlie since yesterday morning."

  "Something that happened last night. If you see her, call security right away, okay? There'll be a guard downstairs monitoring the video feed from her son's room as well."

  "Yeah, right," Carol replied reluctantly.

  Virginia pushed the door shut as the cops left the nurses' station. Damn it, how had they known? She'd been so careful, everything should point to Cassandra Hart, not her.

  CHAPTER 32

  Drake took a deep breath and opened the car door for Hart. Her house didn't look so bad in daylight. Looked like a nice, ordinary brick house dating from the nineteen-twenties. Friendly porch, complete with swing, big picture window, solid oak door. Nothing to be afraid of, nothing at all.

  He took Hart's hand, and she led him up the steps. This was nice. Like coming home. She opened the front door, and he made it to the threshold without a flutter of fear. No pounding in his head and chest, no feeling of suffocating.

  "Sorry about the sme
ll," she said. He was surprised that she sounded nervous.

  There was nothing to be nervous about. Nothing at all. He laughed and scooped her up into his arms, carrying her over the threshold, delighted by how easy it was. Maybe that headshrinker knew what he was talking about after all. Or maybe it was having Hart back–with her at his side, he could face anything.

  "Put me down!" But her laughter joined his, echoed through the room. It was good to see her happy again. It had been too long, much too long. He spun her around, ignoring her protests, then finally settled her back onto her feet.

  "I want to see it all. Everything." The only other time he'd been inside it was only for a few moments. A few terrifying, gut-wrenching moments.

  Drake traced his fingers over the lace antimacassars draped over the arms of the ivory damask, camel-backed sofa. One of the matching pillows flipped over, revealing the faint remnant of a purple stain.

  "Did you do this?" he asked, showing her the stained pillow.

  Hart blushed and took it from him, carefully returning it clean side up on the couch. "When I was four–grape juice. Dad and I tried every stain removal technique we could find, turned it into a kind of science experiment."

  Drake moved over to the mantle, inspecting the photos there. Most were in black and white, a few aged to a sepia color. He lifted one in a heavy silver frame. A smiling woman with vibrant red hair and a tall, thin man wearing thick glasses staring out at the camera as if he were in shock. Hart's parents.

  After he'd been shot and released from the hospital, he'd painted a picture of them for her. He was pleased to see she'd hung his small watercolor sketch over the mantle, a place of honor. Damn, had that only been a few weeks ago? It felt like he'd gone decades without color or light in his life since he'd finished that painting. As if without Hart in his life, his vision was darkened, lifeless.

  He remembered White asking about Hart's life, how she never spoke of her past. But Drake had also never asked. She joined him at the mantle, her fingers stroking the top of the frame lovingly. "Tell me about your Mom."