No Man's Land

by Sara Driscoll

  But he ignored her, pulling her in. “Stop fighting me. Let go for a minute. No one will see. There’s no one here but us.” He touched his forehead to hers and simply held on until the stiffness left her body and she let herself lean on him.

  Together, they waited in silence for help to arrive to take away the dead.

  CHAPTER 23

  Catch Basin: A low point beneath the street where water collects before flowing into a drain.

  Monday, November 12, 6:32 AM

  Rock Creek Park

  Washington, DC

  “Are you sure you’re up to this?”

  Meg sent Brian a sidelong, slit-eyed glare, then turned back to the leaf-strewn path, picking up her pace slightly, forcing him to work harder to stay with her. Hawk and Lacey, running alongside, enthusiastically joined the race, easily staying with her while Brian fell a pace behind.

  Running was part of Meg and Brian’s regular routine with their dogs. Their job required that both handler and dog be in top physical condition, and that included long-distance stamina. Meg hated running with a passion, but she knew it was a necessary evil for the long, strenuous hours of search-and-rescue. Since misery loved company, she and Brian met at least once a week to jog together with the dogs. When she’d called him last night to confirm their previous arrangement to meet this morning, he’d pressed her to ease off for a few more days, considering the beating she’d taken on Saturday.

  It had been past three o’clock in the morning when she and Webb finally got to her place in Arlington. Once she’d showered off the concrete dust and the grime, Webb had checked her from head to toe, not letting her rest until he was satisfied that she didn’t need professional medical care.

  “You’re a paramedic. You are professional medical care.”

  “Don’t be an idiot. I wasn’t kidding when I said I’d drag you kicking and screaming to the ER if it’s required.”

  “Come to bed.”

  “Not until I’m sure you’re okay.”

  In the end, he was satisfied that she wasn’t badly hurt, even though she was a mess of scrapes and bruises. She slept like the dead for six solid hours and then woke up wondering how to climb out of bed when every muscle felt as if it were on fire. Webb got her upright and then Cara had coaxed her through a gentle yoga routine centered on stretching, which she admitted left her more limber and less burdened by pain. She was a sight to behold, though, her body a blooming mass of angry purple and black bruising.

  But she was convinced she’d manage the jog this morning just fine. Her only concession to her injuries was a shorter route—a three-mile loop instead of their usual five- or six-mile minimum. It was bad enough that she’d agreed to that. Now to have Brian second-guessing her again was pissing her off.

  She pushed away her frustrations, trying to recenter herself in nature. Dawn had lightened the cloudless sky, and the sun’s burgeoning rays burnished the leaves with the glowing tones of flame. She struggled to concentrate on the beauty around her, but Saturday’s failure still weighted every step, darkening the brightness of the day.

  Just as the sun broke over the horizon, she and Brian had parked in the practically empty lot near the Boundary Bridge, where Rock Creek flowed from Maryland into the District of Columbia. The temperature hovered around fifty degrees, and Meg had dressed in her usual athletic leggings but had donned a sweatshirt to ward off the cooler temperatures until the jog warmed her. As usual, by tacit mutual agreement, they said little and immediately got to the job at hand; the sooner they started the torture, the sooner it would be over.

  Meg almost immediately regretted her own insistence that she was fit to jog in the early morning chill over an asphalt trail. Every step vibrated pain up her legs, shooting through her right hip and straight up her spine. Even her shoulders felt locked into place, inhibiting her usual easy arm swing. Fluid motion of any kind seemed beyond her, so she put her head down, clenched her jaw, and pushed through the pain.

  By this point they’d crossed the charming bridge with the arching wooden railings and followed the winding trail through the partially denuded forest in a curve that took them away from the creek, though she could hear the rush of the water ahead of them and see the glint of light flashing off cascading streams.

  Brian caught up to her, tossing her a nonplussed raised eyebrow. “You’re awfully cranky this morning.”

  “I’m always cranky in the morning.”

  “Well, yeah. But you’ve dialed it up to eleven this morning.”

  “So you’re trying to make me crankier? Is that wise?”

  “Babe, you know I would walk through fire for you. I will always have your back. But I will also always tell you when you’re being an idiot. And right now, that’s exactly what you’re being.”

  Meg stopped dead in the middle of the path. Brian and both dogs went on several steps farther before they realized she wasn’t with them.

  Spinning around, Brian held out both arms in question. “What?”

  “Me being an idiot seems to be a trend lately.”

  “Who else called you that?”

  “Todd.”

  “Good man. He doesn’t take anyone’s crap.”

  “He really doesn’t.”

  Brian walked back to her. “What’s going on?” When she turned away, he grabbed her arm, earning a startled cry of pain. He snatched his hand away, letting go of her as if she were made of molten metal. “Sorry, that was a reflex. I forgot you’re hurt.”

  He took a moment to study her, and Meg assumed she looked lousy from the concern that darkened his face.

  “You know what?” he said. “I know loser buys coffee, but I’m going to buy the coffee this morning even if we don’t take one more step. You look awful. Why are you pushing yourself like this?”

  Meg started to say something, then threw up her hands and walked down the trail to the river. A warm brush of fur touched her leg, and she looked down to find Hawk beside her; he’d follow her anywhere, without question. His loyalty made her feel slightly better.

  The trailed curved left ahead to flank the creek, but instead of following it, she angled off the trail to a wooden park bench near the edge of Rock Creek. She sank down onto the bench and slumped, her hands dangling loosely between her knees as she stared at the water tumbling over craggy rocks as it raced downstream.

  Brian sat down beside her, carefully leaving a few inches between them but not allowing her any significant distance. “Can I make a suggestion?”

  She turned her head to fix him with a flat stare. “What?”

  “You’re moving like an automaton. You could really use a chiropractic adjustment, because there’s no way your alignment isn’t out of whack after that fall. I go to a miracle worker of a chiropractor. Let me call him for you this morning and try to get you in.”

  “How is that going to help?”

  “Then you won’t be in physical pain, which will help you focus on the task at hand. Because I know what’s going through your mind right now, and it’s not that.”

  “You know better than I do?”

  Brian slung his arm across the top of the bench, slipping his hand over her shoulder to chafe it companionably. “How many cases have we worked together?”

  “Too many to count.”

  “And in all that time, there’s not many times the case gets to you right here.” He lightly tapped her temple with his index finger. “I mean, not counting the Garber case, because that was the whole point. But for normal cases, when you aren’t a target, you stay objective. Yes, we get pissed or frustrated, but you always keep your head in the game. But something changed for you on Saturday morning. I could see it then, and I can see it now.”

  Meg didn’t say anything, just stared straight ahead, her jaw set, her shoulder still under his hand.

  But Brian wouldn’t let her shut him out. “What was it? You’re pissed because the walkway disintegrated? Because you couldn’t keep it intact with the power of your mind? Because, of
course, that was totally in your control as a woman who can do everything. Maybe if you’d used that power to—”

  “I got distracted for a moment, okay?” she snapped at him. “I would have had him, but Hawk disappeared into a cell and I couldn’t see him and I was focused on getting to him before anything went wrong and I wasn’t there to stop it. I should have known something was off, simply from the way Hawk was acting. He paused at that first doorway before going in. Normally, he wouldn’t do that, he’d go right in, but he must have been detecting the separate scent trails. The suspect and the victim going into one cell and then the suspect leaving to go hide in the next cell. But Hawk went after the victim—possibly because he was picking up on fear pheromones—and I was totally focused on going after him and nothing else. That’s when the guy came out of nowhere. I had him, Brian, I had my hands on him, and I probably could have held on to him if I’d been ready. But I wasn’t, and now, instead, he’s still out there and someone else is going to die and—”

  “So help me, if you say it’s your fault, I’m going to slap you.” Brian ruthlessly cut her off. “And you’re going to deserve it. Let me get this straight: You were searching a building that was falling apart, with the roof literally caving in. Your dog, your partner, disappears from view, and you think he might run into trouble and you wouldn’t be there to keep him from getting hurt, or worse. That’s why you got distracted for a millisecond. It was bad timing, and that’s all. I would have done the same thing. So would Lauren or Scott.” He looked down to where Hawk and Lacey lolled, panting, at their feet. “These dogs are our whole world.” His voice softened, the harsh edge gone. “You lost Deuce, and that’s a nightmare I can’t even imagine.” He dropped his free hand onto Lacey’s head and stroked it lovingly. “You would do anything to keep something from happening to Hawk.”

  The image of her Richmond PD German shepherd K-9 partner Deuce filled Meg’s mind. Shot in the line of duty by the perp she was pursuing, he’d died in her arms as they’d huddled together in the rain, and she’d thought her world had ended. Until she’d returned to her parents’ rural animal rescue to find a sickly black Lab puppy that had taken all her time and attention to pull from the brink of death. And in saving him, he’d saved her in return.

  Hawk nudged her hand with his nose, as if sensing her thoughts. She ruffled his ears, and he licked her hand in return. “Yeah, I don’t think I’d make it a second time. Maybe that played into it.”

  “Of course it did, on a totally subconscious level. You didn’t stop to analyze it, you just reacted. It was bad timing that the guy went for you just then. But from how you and Todd described it, you totally had him, and if the walkway hadn’t collapsed, he’d be in a cell right now. Want to blame something? Blame the crumbling infrastructure, not yourself. Distracted or not, you were getting him under control, until you both went into free fall.”

  Meg blew out a long breath and sat back against the bench, coming into the circle of his arm. “I guess.” She looked up at him. “Leave it to you to pull me out of a funk.”

  “I knew if I was irritating enough, you’d talk to me. And I can do irritating, let me assure you.”

  She tipped her head onto his shoulder. “You’re a pain in the ass, do you know that?”

  He planted an overly dramatic, smacking kiss on the top of her head. “I’ll be whatever you need me to be, as long as you don’t shut me out. We work better together when you actually talk to me.”

  She laughed. “We sure do.” A thought occurred to her, and she jerked away from him. “Oh no. Your gun.”

  “What about it?”

  “I had it that night, and the guy knocked it out of my hand and it dropped four stories onto the floor below. I didn’t even think of it. We need to go find it. Anyone could pick it up and use it.”

  Brian patted her knee. “No worries there. A Germantown PD officer found it later that morning once the sun rose and they had daylight to search. Though I’m pretty sure it will never fire a bullet ever again with any kind of accuracy. It’s kind of banged up.”

  Meg winced. “I’m sorry, I’ll replace it.”

  “Don’t give it a thought. Craig’s already taking care of it. Uncle Sam will replace it. So . . . want to finish the run?”

  She ducked her head as her cheeks heated. “Would you mind if I took a rain check? I’m actually a little sorer than I originally thought.”

  “A little?”

  “Okay, a lot. I’m not as up for a run as I thought I’d be. But I’m up for coffee if you’re still buying. And I’ll tell you about Todd asking me to move in with him.”

  Brian’s eyes popped comically wide. “No way. I definitely want all the dirt. But yes to coffee. I’ll slap myself if I don’t get some caffeine soon. And because I’m a prince among men, I’m even going to spring for a scone for each of us.”

  They stood and slowly started up the path toward the cars.

  “What’s the plan for after the coffee and the scones?” Brian asked.

  “Apparently, you’re taking me to the chiropractor. After that, we’re going back to work.” Meg’s voice was rock hard. “He won this round, but I’ll be damned if he’s going to get the next one.”

  CHAPTER 24

  Dirty Shot: A photograph taken using maximum aperture (minimum f-stop) and high electronic gain (ISO) to capture action in low light. The resulting image is grainy and blurred.

  Monday, November 12, 11:16 AM

  Forensic Canine Unit, J. Edgar Hoover Building

  Washington, DC

  Craig regarded his entire team as they squeezed their rolling desk chairs into every nook and cranny of his office, leaving only enough room for the dogs to flop at their feet without the risk of rolling over a vulnerable tail, ear, or paw. “Thanks for making time for this impromptu meeting.” He fixed Meg with an expectant look. “You said you wanted to regroup.”

  Meg looked around at the teams of humans and dogs crowded into Craig’s office. “I feel like we need a plan moving forward after Saturday morning’s f—” She jerked slightly and cut off the description “failure” when Brian kicked her chair and nailed her with an icy look. “Incident,” she finished, earning a satisfied nod from him.

  “Before we start beating ourselves up,” said Craig, “because I know you guys and how you forensically analyze every case, I’d like to review what went right.” With his index finger, he started counting off points, starting on his opposite pinkie. “One—the kidnapping got reported almost immediately. Two—we had a slight delay when the recovered dog had no tags, but we got full ownership information from the microchip. Three—the case got referred to us from the local PD immediately. Four—we had expert identification of the search location. Five—everybody, including our rescue and medical resources, hit the ground running and bugged out with their dogs and equipment in minutes flat.”

  “You’re running out of fingers,” Brian commented dryly.

  “I love it when so many things happen like they’re supposed to that I run out of fingers,” Craig shot back. “Six”—he looked pointedly at Brian and started at his pinkie again—“everyone arrived promptly, we paired up for safety, organized effective search quadrants, and had the search underway just over an hour after the initial call. Seven—we had the suspect located within twenty minutes of starting the search.” He looked directly at Meg now. “Say what you will about the fact that we were unable to apprehend the suspect, but the discovery of him was textbook. I couldn’t have asked for a better response, so thank you all for a job well done.”

  Meg gave him a reluctant smile she knew didn’t reach her eyes.

  “Now,” Craig continued, “let’s look at what happened on-site. Meg, I know you’re not happy the suspect got away from you.”

  “Not especially.” She fought to keep the sour tone from her voice.

  “I talked to Webb that night,” Scott said. “In his opinion, you had him contained. He was down, and you would have had him cuffed and subdued in
another ten seconds, but the walkway collapsed. Since he was already flat on the ground, he probably didn’t get hurt as badly as you. You were on your feet and went down and hit your head. It’s no wonder he managed to get away.”

  “I’m pretty sure none of the rest of us would have fared as well as you did,” Lauren interjected. “If he’d jumped me, well, it wouldn’t have been very pretty and I might have ended up going over the edge. You had the skills and the strength to fight him off, saving your own life. It’s damned unlucky the apprehension went south after that, but that’s not your fault.”

  Meg looked from Brian to Scott to Lauren. “Did you have a meeting ahead of time and agree to boost my ego?”

  “Nope.” Lauren’s hand flick said she was having none of that. “We’re just telling it like it is. You did the best any of us would have done, and we’re lucky no one was killed. It’s not good you got hurt, but even that could have been worse.”

  “For a minute there, I thought I was going down, so I agree, it could have been a lot worse.”

  “Agreed all ’round.” Craig sat back in his chair and observed his team. “And, yes, some of the incident didn’t go as planned. Let’s start with Mr. Pillai. He was the victim in the best mental and physical condition so far, and yet he was dead when we arrived.”

  “There must have been a different poison in play,” Brian said.

  “Mrs. Devar was found alive and is currently recovering,” Lauren added. “This case has made media headlines, and they trumpeted that win. And you remember what Rutherford said about how the suspect would be following media headlines? He’s revised his methodology so it doesn’t take as long, but that might have simply involved increasing the dose of the difethialone. Maybe he increased it because the kidnapping didn’t go as planned and the dog raised an alarm, so he didn’t think he’d have as much time before the victim was found. How long until we find out what was used?”