by V. K. Powell
Rae dropped the stack of folders on her desk and decided she had better things to do than chase a mystery no one wanted her to solve. The victims in these cases deserved her best effort. Her first serial case required that her skills be sharp and her instincts on target. It pained her to think she might not be up for the task, no matter how badly she wanted justice or how much she craved the challenge.
She tried to reason away her reservations. Sergeant Sharp wouldn’t have given her the cases if he didn’t trust her skills. Maybe he knew she’d fail and he could blame it on her inexperience. That didn’t make sense. Failure would make him look bad. He must want her to succeed. She hated this—doubting herself and her abilities.
Rae quieted the uncertainty and pulled the first case file, dated almost a year ago, from the folder. Victim #1—she didn’t allow herself to call the victims by name yet, except when conducting interviews. Some of her coworkers considered her method unsympathetic, but her approach served as an additional motivator and helped keep her emotions in check. When she made an arrest, she felt like she’d done her job and could then face the victims with pride and address them by name.
The no-frills verbiage of Whitt’s follow-up report introduced Rae to the first victim and the severity of the offense:
White female, 21 years of age, blond hair, kidnapped from a high-traffic area and assaulted with a blade, possibly knife and/or scalpel. Victim on the way home from New Year’s party, reports being subdued, possibly drugged. Woke up hours later near dumpster in deserted area with injuries. No information on suspect. Abrasions on victim’s wrists from restraints. Toxicology report showed no signs of drugs in victim’s system.
Erratic slicing-type cuts to upper abdominal area extending to lower abdominals above pubic region. Injuries appear random and frenzied. Victim reported suspect whispered “liar” to her repeatedly.
Rae slid the victim photos from the folder and stared in disbelief at the irregular cuts through the taut, young flesh. The weapon severed muscle tissue in some areas and barely dissected the skin layers in others. At first glance the injuries appeared to be a classic crime of passion, a hurried attack. The fact that the suspect referred to the victim as a liar could suggest a connection. Rae wouldn’t assume that until she knew more about the victim’s life. She pored over the other documents in the folder without finding anything significant. When Rae closed the first file with a combination of sadness and anger, her shift had ended. The case read like a blueprint of how to avoid capture for a felony assault, an investigator’s nightmare of dead-end leads and inconclusive scientific results—the kind of case an investigator obsessed over.
Rae had already made an appointment with the primary detective on the cases, Ken Whitt, recently retired. She debated starting fresh without any input or opinions from him, but a cop’s instincts were often the best weapon in solving cases. Whitt had been a detective for twenty of his thirty-year career. If he had any hunches or advice, she certainly wanted to hear it. She couldn’t imagine retiring and leaving this suspect free to inflict more pain. And from what she’d read, he would strike again. Animals like him didn’t stop. Their need drove them to torture and mutilate until they were caught and caged.
She stretched the kinks out of her back, gathered the file together, and headed toward the canteen. This case was too important to leave lying around open on a desk. It would be with her until she closed it by arrest. However, right now she needed a break. Too much violence at one time, even on paper, diluted her attention. Another jolt of caffeine and some fresh air would prepare her for the next round of reports and pictures.
She had to pass the crime-analysis unit on her way to the canteen located on the first floor above the police department. As she approached the door, one of the employees exited and she glanced inside. Audrey sat next to Loretta Granger, a red-haired, sultry records specialist who had attended the same recruit school as Audrey. Engrossed in something on the computer screen, they seemed very cozy, smiling and chatting as the printer tapped out copies. Rae stepped in before the door closed and slid into a cubicle behind Audrey.
She looked at the data displayed on the screen: a list of assaults for the past year. Several unsolved incidents were highlighted in yellow, including the Whisperer cases she’d inherited. Why was Audrey going through crime analysis instead of the chief’s office for information about police cases? Perhaps the mayor was looking into something specific and needed to bypass the department, maybe an internal investigation of some sort. Rae tested her theory as she walked toward Audrey and gauged her reaction. “Ms. Everhart.”
Audrey pushed away from the computer desk so quickly she almost toppled over. “Detective Butler, what are you doing here?”
“Funny, I was about to ask you the same question.” Audrey’s face flushed and she looked helplessly from the analyst to Rae. Even a rookie could call this one.
“Looking into a matter for the mayor. Research, you know, work,” Audrey said.
Loretta rolled her chair closer to Audrey and immediately defended her. “I was helping her out, Rae. The crime-analysis folks were backed up.” The smile Loretta gave Audrey said her services didn’t have to end at statistics.
Rae found the visual leer inappropriate and almost said so, but Audrey’s personal life wasn’t her business. “Anything I can help you with?” If Audrey didn’t want Rae to investigate her assault, she certainly wouldn’t include her in a clandestine investigation. And Rae knew Audrey was doing exactly that. Research for the mayor, right.
“No, thanks. I have everything I need for the moment.” Audrey grabbed a printout from the computer and started toward the door. “Thanks, Lo. Catch you later.”
She should probably just walk away. If Audrey wanted to shut her out, fine. She didn’t need the additional grief, especially not now. Instead, Rae followed her down the hallway and onto the elevator. When the doors closed and they were alone, she turned to Audrey. “If I asked your boss, would he know about this investigation?”
Audrey wouldn’t face her. “Let it go, Detective. This doesn’t concern you.”
“You mean it doesn’t concern me as in having a case taken away from me or as in it’s not personal?” Rae heard the bite in her tone and didn’t like it. She hated not knowing. If Audrey trusted Loretta Granger, why couldn’t she trust her? Her rationale didn’t make sense, but at the moment she didn’t care. She couldn’t handle one more secret and feeling that her instincts were faulty again.
“I simply suggested to Mayor Downing that the police department might have better things to do than investigate something that may or may not be an assault.” She waved the printout. “And I was right. Quite a few unsolved cases could use some attention.”
The air between them in the enclosed space shimmered with tension. Rae moved closer, and Audrey looked as though she was struggling to breathe. “Why are you trying so hard to convince yourself and me that you weren’t assaulted when it’s obvious you were? What are you hiding? Is someone threatening you?”
Audrey backed away from her as far as possible. The look on her face was almost fearful, exactly like two days ago at her apartment. What was she so afraid of? Maybe Rae had been too forceful. Maybe the attack was more traumatic than she realized and Audrey was having trouble coping. Rae cursed her errant instincts once again.
Audrey’s expression shifted as the doors opened. “I can’t tell you what happened. Why don’t you focus on something more substantial? Besides, I’m so bored with these questions that my feet are falling asleep.” With that final jibe, Audrey stepped off the elevator and flashed a smile as the doors closed behind her.
Rae punched the Open button repeatedly but the elevator was already moving. She couldn’t understand Audrey’s behavior. One minute she cowered fearfully in the corner and the next she made jokes. She didn’t seem the type to jest about something as serious as assault. Rae remembered an earlier incident in the hospital and one at Audrey’s home where she’d used humor to defle
ct her discomfort. Maybe it was a coping mechanism. If not, she’d seriously misjudged Audrey.
Rae returned to her desk. She needed a break from work and thoughts of Audrey Everhart. She shoved the files into her briefcase and made a quick phone call on the way to her car. “Deb, can you get the gang together tonight? My place will be fine. I need to vent, laugh, and celebrate. Not necessarily in that order.”
*
When the elevator doors closed, Audrey exhaled a lung-busting gush of air. Being in such close proximity to Rae had taken all her restraint. In addition to the uncustomary attraction, Audrey had also felt anxious and almost fearful, though Rae posed no threat. She had no idea what she’d babbled about during the ride. One thing was certain, Rae had been taken off her case and wasn’t happy about it. Why didn’t she tell Rae someone had assaulted her with a stun gun and she had no idea who it was? It sounded simple until she figured in all her secrets.
And gauging from Rae’s scathing evaluation of Loretta, she would need to explain the records specialist soon. Could she justify forming a friendship with a woman solely to get information? When it became obvious Loretta wanted more, Audrey had utilized all her evasive maneuvers and jokes to keep Loretta close but not too close. Rae had seen something between them and drawn the wrong conclusion. Audrey would clarify everything, but not now.
She couldn’t let her resolve waver, but feelings about Rae Butler kept surfacing: fear of what she might find out, apprehension about her opinions, concern about being judged and found lacking, and horror that these worries covered a deeper emotion. She had to focus on the facts, remain objective. Once she had some answers, maybe she could have a personal life.
As she walked back to her office, Audrey reviewed the dream she’d had and tried to make sense of it. Some of the pieces fit her recent attack and others were like bits of a nightmare. Maybe her mind was simply filling in blanks.
Her research about amnesia indicated that the memories of her earlier assault were probably still intact, blocked by her defense mechanisms. It also pointed toward partial or complete memory recovery. But it had been so long. Why could she still not remember? She could recite snippets of information provided by others but few of her own recollections. Perhaps she wasn’t suffering from amnesia at all but blocking the dreadful memories. It seemed a cosmic joke. She was so extremely intuitive about other people and situations and so oblivious about herself.
Maybe the data she gathered from crime analysis would be a starting point. Solving her stun-gun attack might open other doors in her memory and her life. But how could she keep Rae Butler out of her business while she pursued leads? Audrey Everhart fought her own battles and she wasn’t changing—no matter how attractive and compelling the rescuer.
*
After Janet moved out, Rae transformed the vacant sleeping quarters in her condo into a multi-functional space that served as an office, dart room, and alternate gathering space. Tonight she put Stephanie’s favorite beer on ice, set Deb’s Southern Comfort on a side table, and spread Ronni’s preferred cheese and peanut snacks on a platter. Her friends weren’t big drinkers, but they liked to sip and munch while they talked.
She’d met these three women through their public-service jobs with city-county government over the past five years. They’d become friends and weathered many personal and professional storms. When one of them needed a pep talk, a reality check, or a quick kick in the pants, the others rallied round.
Her oldest friend, Deb, arrived first, as usual. She liked a few minutes of private time with Rae before the others came. Without a good cover or diversion, Deb would see right through Rae’s celebration ruse.
“God, I’m glad you called. I haven’t had a day off in two weeks. The entire communications division is going to hell in a hand basket.” Deb gave Rae a full body hug and waggled her pelvis against her in jest. She epitomized the Southern belle, voluptuous body and a drawl that made most men weak. Deb considered the effect a bonus in supervising the men in her unit and an annoyance otherwise, since she dated only women. “I love what you’ve done with the place. Nice spot for your dartboard. Stab anybody lately?”
“I’m considering it. How about a quick game before the others get here?” Deb looked at her with suspicion. She’d made a tactical error.
“Okay, what’s going on?”
“What do you mean?”
“The last time you asked me to play darts was before you told me Janet was cheating on you. And if I recall, I broke two of your precious spinner thingies and destroyed the wall. You’ve got that woman-trouble look. Who is she?”
Rae needed at least one beer before she broached the subject of Audrey Everhart. Fortunately, the other two members of the quartet arrived before she was forced to answer Deb’s question.
Stephanie, a robust butch with basic brown hair and brown eyes, worked as a firefighter. Her partner, Ronni, a gorgeously androgynous EMT, sported wavy black hair and dark-gray eyes. They were an unusual couple, but their relationship had lasted three years so far and showed no signs of trouble. They acted like teenagers in heat.
“What took you two so damn long? Stop for a quickie? I’m dying for a Southern Comfort.” Deb gave each woman a hug and impatiently tonged ice into her glass.
“Nah, I took care of her while she drove,” Steph answered. “Pass me a beer, Deb.”
“Do we always have to start with sex?” Rae asked.
“Yes.” They spoke in unison.
“I’m so horny you could snap me on the ass with a rubber band and I’d go off,” Stephanie said.
Deb raised an eyebrow. “Well, let me see if I can rustle one up. That might be fun to watch.”
“Might get noisy though,” Stephanie warned. “Tell them, Ronni.”
Ronni smiled her heart-stopping grin. She was the quiet one in the crowd. If she had something to say, she said it. If not, she didn’t waste words or energy. She played it honest and true. “It’s good to see you again, Rae. It’s been a while.”
Stephanie mumbled agreement then pinned Rae with a pleading stare. “Please tell me we’re not here to unearth the bones of dearly despised Janet one more time. I’m not sure I can take it.” Stephanie’s profession suited her because she flew hot in seconds. Tact wasn’t a skill she possessed nor one she tried to cultivate. Her emotions lurked close to the surface and she did nothing to temper them. Fortunately her peers wore fire-retardant clothing and had water hoses handy.
Deb moved to Rae’s side. She had unofficially assumed the role of group peacekeeper and was surprisingly effective. “Now, Stephanie, darling, we have to be sensitive to each other’s needs. We’re here for support and encouragement…and the occasional wild gossip session.”
“I promise I won’t talk about Janet,” Rae assured them.
They made idle chitchat while Deb played bartender and directed them to seats around the room. The small space could barely accommodate the settee and two dining chairs Rae had dragged in at the last minute. Stephanie and Ronni claimed the settee, leaning against each other in a picture pose of lesbian bliss.
“How are your classes going? Don’t you graduate soon?” Deb asked.
Rae took more time than necessary retrieving her beer from the ice bucket, wiping it down, and sliding it into a koozie. “I’m not sure I will—graduate.”
“What?”
“What?”
“What?”
She’d expected a passionate response and faced her stunned friends. “I’ve missed a few classes, after Janet—sorry. What’s the point anyway?”
Her friends took turns encouraging her to pursue the degree she’d worked on so hard for the past five years. Their arguments made sense, and they were probably right. But she couldn’t help but wonder what it would accomplish.
Ronni summed it up. “If you don’t do this, Rae, you’ll always regret it. A degree is good for you personally and professionally. Do it for yourself, not for anybody else.” The others nodded agreement.
&nb
sp; “Yeah,” Stephanie added, “and start dating again.”
Rae moaned. She hadn’t thought about dating in eight months, until the past few days. “I don’t know, guys. Love makes us either daredevils or cowards, and I don’t want to be either.”
“What’s wrong with a little daring, as long as it’s with the right person. You both have to be on the same page. Most women these days can’t hold their sex. You sleep with them once and they think you’re engaged.” Stephanie looked at Ronni and grinned. “At least that’s what I hear from our single friends.”
Deb rolled her eyes. “I’d offer to loan you my address book to do some phone cruising, but my girls would be too butch. You go more for the femme types, like me.”
“I don’t have time to date. I’ve got other things on my mind.” Talk about her sex life always made Rae uncomfortable, and thoughts of Audrey made it worse. She needed to change the subject. “I’d like to make a toast to the newest detective on the Whisperer case—me.” Everybody clicked their glasses, took a drink, and waited for Rae to explain. She gave them a brief rundown, as if the case provided her ticket to investigative stardom.
“And this is good because?” Ronni asked.
Deb intervened. “Honey, this could move Rae up the promotion ladder, if she wants it.”
Stephanie snorted. “It’s career suicide. One detective has already retired because of it. Why do you think they gave it to a junior investigator, no offense intended?”
