by Radclyffe
When she straightened and turned, she saw Rebecca emerging from the emergency room pushing a stretcher. Her emotions warred in the familiar battle between relief that Rebecca was unhurt and guilt over her happiness, because someone else was injured. Sandy. God, Sandy. Barely more than a child and already with a lifetime of pain, and now possibly more. Why was life so unfair? She knew better than most not to ask those questions, but sometimes in the dark hours of the night when she was weary, she couldn’t help but ask herself.
She hurried forward. “Let me do that. Are you all right?”
Rebecca stopped the gurney with one hand and cupped Catherine’s jaw with the other. She kissed her fleetingly. “I’m okay. This is a mess, though.”
“We’ll take care of it. Can you see about getting her inside? I’ll find Ali.” Catherine wanted to tell Rebecca to go inside and sit down. She looked exhausted. But she knew that would be pointless. Rebecca would not rest until Sandy was cared for, and probably not even then. Whatever had happened tonight would demand her attention. They would not, none of them, stand for one of their own being hurt this way.
As Catherine hurried away, she heard Rebecca tell Watts to get Darla’s statement. Darla, she assumed, was the frightened young African-American she’d seen getting out of the car. She blinked as the harsh lights assaulted her eyes, and she blamed the sudden tears on that rather than the ache in her heart at the thought of yet more young victims.
Dell couldn’t seem to move. She feared once Sandy was inside the hospital she would lose her, even though rationally she knew that wasn’t true. Still, how could she protect her if she let her go?
Rebecca leaned into the vehicle and held out her arms. “Give her to me, Mitchell. It’s okay.”
“I can’t,” Dell whispered, sheltering Sandy in the curve of her body.
“Yes, you can. You’ll be right beside her. You know I won’t let anyone hurt her.” Rebecca slid her arms around Sandy’s shoulders and under her knees, alongside Dell’s. “Trust me.”
Rebecca’s eyes held hers steadily, utterly sure, unwaveringly strong. Dell eased her grip on Sandy, who murmured something she couldn’t understand.
“What?” Dell asked hoarsely. “Babe?”
“Everything is all right, baby,” Sandy whispered. She opened her eyes and tried to smile. “Stop stressing.”
Dell clamped her lower lip between her teeth so tightly she tasted blood. Desperate to believe, she let Rebecca take Sandy from her and settle her onto the stretcher. She felt dizzy as she climbed out of the car, and grabbed the metal railing on the stretcher as much to steady herself as to stay connected to Sandy. “Don’t worry. I’m solid.”
Sandy closed her eyes. “I know.”
Rebecca pulled the stretcher toward the double ER doors. A willowy brunette nurse in navy blue scrubs and a stethoscope dancing around her neck hurried outside and grasped the stretcher opposite Rebecca.
“Dr. Rawlings said you had a patient for us. Trauma two is open. Right down the hall on the left.”
“Thanks,” Rebecca said. The nurse smiled at her.
“You’re Dr. Rawlings’s detective.”
Rebecca smiled back. “I am.”
*
“This light might bother your eyes, honey. I’m sorry.” Ali flicked her penlight quickly between Sandy’s left and right eyes, watching the pupils constrict. “Everything looks good here.” She clipped the light to the pocket of her scrub shirt and put her hands on her hips. “You didn’t lose consciousness?”
“No.” Sandy glanced toward the end of the stretcher where Dell stood, her hands still clenched around the metal railing. “I wasn’t out. I know what that feels like.”
Ali shifted her gaze to Dell. “You might want to wait outside, Dell.”
“No. I’m staying.”
“Go ahead, baby,” Sandy murmured. “This is just routine.”
“No.”
“Sandy, do you want Dr. Rawlings to come in?”
“No, just go ahead, Doc.”
Ali covered Sandy’s hand with hers. “Were you sexually assaulted?”
“No one touched me.” Sandy’s eyes flickered to Dell again. “No one.”
“I only care about you being okay,” Dell said gruffly.
“You’re sure nothing else hurts?” Ali asked.
Sandy started to laugh, but then caught her breath when her ribs screamed in protest. “That’s it.”
“Once we finish the x-rays, we’ll move you upstairs—”
“I want to go home,” Sandy said immediately.
Ali blew out an exasperated breath. “Now why doesn’t that surprise me?”
“You should stay here, San, if that’s what the doctor wants,” Dell said.
Sandy frowned. “Oh. Look who’s talking. Macho cop who doesn’t want to stay in the hospital even after she’s been stabbed.”
“Ah, Jesus. Save me from the whole bunch of you.” Ali pointed at Dell. “See that she stays in bed.” She fixed Sandy with a lethal stare. “You take the medications I prescribe and get your butt back here if you develop any problems. All of which I will write down for you.” She started toward the curtain that enclosed the cubicle, then looked over her shoulder. “And I really don’t want to see any of your team back here again. I’m sick of you all.”
Sandy smiled as much as her swollen lip would allow her. “We all love you too.”
“Yeah yeah,” Ali muttered as the curtain swung closed behind her.
“How is she?” Rebecca asked as soon as she came through the door.
“She’s stable, and all things considered, lucky.” Ali shook her head. “Scrapes and contusions, probably several cracked ribs. Her face is bruised, but the abrasion on her lip doesn’t require sutures. If she weren’t eighteen, I’d say she’d be too sore to get out of bed for a few days. But, knowing her, anything is possible.” Ali grinned ruefully. “She wants to go home, and there’s nothing more we’re going to do for her here. I’m inclined to let her go.” She glanced at Rebecca. “She needs to stay off the streets for a few days. Until she can move enough to protect herself.”
“I’ll see to it.”
“Isn’t there some way you can get these pricks?” Ali gestured toward the hall and the cubicles beyond. “These girls, the streets are eating them alive.”
“If I could take her place in there right now, I would.”
“Hell. I know. I’m sorry.” Ali let out a weary breath and rubbed her forehead. “I’m just tired. Tired of seeing them come in like this.” She met Rebecca’s gaze. “So take care of it, will you?”
Rebecca smiled wryly. “I’m working on it.”
*
“Look, rookie,” Sandy said, “I know Rebecca wants you downstairs with the rest of the team. So go.”
“They’re just finishing up reports and filling in Sloan and Jason.” Dell hovered inside the door of the bedroom in Sloan and Michael’s loft. “They don’t need me.”
“Neither do I. So just go do your job.” Sandy couldn’t find a comfortable position to lie in. She usually slept on her stomach unless she was with Dell, and then she slept with her leg over Dell’s and her head on Dell’s shoulder. She wanted Dell in bed with her, but she didn’t want Dell thinking she had to babysit her.
“I’ll get you some water in case you need to take some more pills.”
“I don’t want any pills. I don’t want any water. I just want you to take off.”
Dell shoved her hands in the pockets of her jeans, staring at the floor. “I’m sorry about last night.”
“Oh Jesus.” Sandy stretched out her arm. “Come here.”
“That’s okay. I’ll just—”
“Now, Dell.”
Dell crossed the room in three big strides and knelt by the side of the bed. She grasped Sandy’s hand in both of hers and lowered her head until her forehead touched the back of Sandy’s hand. After a few seconds, Sandy felt tears on her skin and her heart did the tighten and roll thing that only Dell
had ever made it do.
“Baby,” Sandy murmured. “Everything is all right, baby.”
“I was so freaking scared,” Dell whispered without looking up.
“I wasn’t. Because I knew you were there. I knew you would find us. And you did.”
Dell’s head snapped up. “I fucked up. I left you here to go buy Irina a fucking television.”
Sandy narrowed her eyes. “You bought her a television?”
“I figured she needed something to do. And the more time she spends inside, the safer she is.”
“Yeah well, as long as it isn’t flowers. No flowers, right?”
Dell shook her head, grinning weakly.
Sandy stroked her face, brushing away the tears. “You know I still would’ve gone out whether you were here or not.”
“I wouldn’t have let you go with those guys.”
Sandy sighed. “And what? We let Darla go by herself? She almost got raped, Dell.”
“I’m going to fucking kill them.”
“No, you’re not. You’re going to do exactly what Frye tells you to do, because that’s who you are. That’s your job.” When Dell tried to look away, Sandy grabbed her T-shirt and tugged her closer, ignoring the pain that reared up in her chest. “Look at me. Look at me, rookie.”
Dell finally met her eyes.
“Promise me. Right now. Promise me you won’t do anything crazy. You’re a cop, Dell. That’s important. It’s important to you. It’s important to me.”
“Oh fuck,” Dell whispered. She started to shake and lowered her head again.
“Baby?” Sandy asked gently.
Dell took several long, deep breaths, then raised her head and smiled crookedly. “I’m okay. Long night, you know?”
Sandy laughed. “Yeah. I noticed.”
“So I was thinking, after I finish with the meeting downstairs, I could maybe sleep in here. Grab some blankets and a pillow. You know, sleep next to the bed so I wouldn’t bother—”
“When you’re done, you get in bed with me.” Sandy stroked Dell’s arm. “I’ll sleep better if you’re here. You make me feel safe, baby.”
Dell swallowed hard. “Okay then. I won’t be long.” She leaned over and kissed Sandy’s forehead. “I love you lots.”
“Same here. Go do your cop thing now, baby.” Sandy waited until Dell left to try to get comfortable again. She moaned as a hot flash of pain raced around her rib cage.
From the doorway, Michael said, “Can I get you anything?”
“There’s some pills on the table next to me,” Sandy said, trying to breathe evenly so the pain wouldn’t get worse. “I think I might need another one.”
“I’ll get some water and be right back.” A minute later Michael returned. She opened the medication, removed a pill, and handed it to Sandy. Then she sat on the side of the bed and gently slid her arm behind Sandy’s shoulders, helping her to sit up so she could sip the water. “I heard about what happened. How are you feeling?”
Sandy leaned against her. “Pretty crappy. Don’t tell Dell, though.”
“I won’t.” Michael eased her back onto the pillows. “How are you doing besides the pain?”
“It was scary there for a while.” Sandy held Michael’s hand. “But I think I’m okay.”
“Good. If you need to talk, I’m here. Or Catherine.”
“They didn’t hurt me. I mean, not the way you’re worried about.”
Michael sighed. “I don’t know what to be worried about first anymore. Or who.” She stroked Sandy’s hair with her free hand. “So just don’t frighten me like this again, okay?”
“Top of my list.”
“You should get some sleep.”
“Are you okay? You look pretty tired.”
Michael smiled a little. “I am tired. Good tired, though.”
Sandy grinned. “Oh. Sloan gave you a nice wake-up call.”
“No,” Michael said playfully. “I gave her a nice wake-up call.” She rose carefully and tucked in the blankets around Sandy. “I understand you’re supposed to stay in bed all day today. I’ll check on you later.”
“Hey,” Sandy called as Michael started toward the door. When Michael looked back, Sandy said shyly, “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome, sweetie. And remember, I’m here if you need anything.”
Sandy closed her eyes. Dell would be back soon. And she was among friends. She didn’t need anything else.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Rebecca nodded to Mitchell, who came into the conference room after everyone else, dressed in the same clothes she’d worn the night before. She looked tired, but steady. “Grab a cup of coffee, Detective.”
“I’m okay, Lieutenant.” Dell sank into the chair on the far side of Watts. “Sorry I’m late.”
“Understood. How’s Sandy?”
“Crabby.”
“Doing all right, then,” Rebecca said with a flicker of a smile before glancing down at her notes. “Okay. Last night confirms what we’ve suspected all along. The Russians are part of a high-level prostitution game, but they’re not likely to be the ones pulling the strings. They’re doing a lot of the ground-level work—procuring and delivering the girls. Providing security.” She looked at Jason, who was rapidly keying data into the laptop in front of him. “You have those images for us yet?”
“Coming…now.” Jason hit a few more keys and images appeared on a screen built into the wall at the end of the conference room.
Rebecca squinted. The images were murky, the resolution poor. “Can you clean those up at all?”
Jason raised a brow.
“Sorry,” Rebecca said dryly. “Foolish question.”
“Give me a minute,” Jason said, working away. “When I get these into my other program I’ll be able to do better for you.”
“There—that’s good for now. Thanks.” Rebecca waited while the entire series of images Sandy had taken flicked across the screen. “We got three names from the license photos Sandy shot. Two businessmen with strong ties to local government and a city comptroller. I recognize at least one of the others. A state senator.”
Sloan said, “There’s no way men like that would do business directly with the Russian mob.”
“No,” Rebecca said. “They wouldn’t. They would only trust someone who moved in their circles. Someone they considered one of them.”
“The Zamoras?” Watts said skeptically. “Why would these guys trust them?”
“Not them, necessarily,” Rebecca said. “But Kratos. Remember, he’s kept himself apart from the family business, at least on the surface. The good brother. He’s just a businessman.”
“Yeah.” Watts pulled a face. “And I’m the next chief of detectives too.”
“Sandy got us the kind of intel it might’ve taken us months to get. These guys.” Rebecca waved a hand at the screen where Jason had arranged the images in a series of headshots. “One of them will talk.”
“Maybe,” Sloan said. “If Clark doesn’t get to them first.”
“Clark doesn’t know we have this information. And for now, that’s exactly the way it’s going to stay.”
“That’s not gonna win you points for interagency cooperation, Loo,” Watts said. “Could put you in a tight spot, especially since the brass told us to play nice with the feds.”
Rebecca rolled her shoulders, fighting a headache that had beat at the back of her skull for the last two hours. “If anyone in the PPD thinks this unit is going to lay down so Clark can fuck us over again, then they haven’t been paying attention.”
Watts grinned. Sloan stared at the table, her expression remote.
“So what does that mean for Mitch’s part of the operation? Him and Irina?” Watts asked. “Maybe Sandy got us everything we need.”
“Sandy only got us a piece,” Dell said before Rebecca could answer. “Those pictures don’t tell us who’s putting the clients and the Russians together. We need the connection, hopefully someone close to Zamora, and Irin
a knows the men who know them. Those are the guys we want. Irina can get me close to the key players. And then we can put on some real pressure.”
“I agree,” Rebecca said. “We’ve got verification of one piece of the puzzle. But we need someone higher up than street-level soldiers like the men who picked Sandy up last night.” She nodded at Dell. “We still need Irina, and I imagine the Russians want her brought back in. They know she’s alive. And they know how much she knows. I think it will be safer and smarter if she initiates contact now. A show of good faith on her part.”
“What if she can’t bring me in with her?” Dell glanced round the table uncomfortably. “You said it yourself. She knows a lot. They could decide she knows too much, especially since the house she lived in was raided.”
“If it looks like she’s in trouble, we’ll pull her out and try to get Sandy back in again. That’s probably a good idea anyhow. We know these guys are interested in—”
Dell shot to her feet. “No!”
Watts coughed into his hand and muttered, “Sit down, kid.”
Rebecca stared down the length of the table at Mitchell, watching the young detective struggle with her emotions. After a few seconds she said to the room in general, “Would everyone take a break, please. Except for Detective Mitchell.” After the door closed behind their colleagues, she said, “You have an objection you would like to make, Detective?”
Dell automatically stepped to attention. “Yes ma’am, I do. If I might speak freely.”
“Go ahead.”
“Sandy’s hurt. They could have killed her last night. She’s not trained to do this.”
“Do what, Detective?”
“Work undercover,” Dell shot back. “She doesn’t know how to fight. She doesn’t carry a gun. She doesn’t have any goddamn backup.”
“And you conclude from this?” Rebecca asked. “As a cop, Mitchell, not as her lover.”
Dell sucked in a breath. “The risk of sending her back in again is unacceptable.”
Rebecca scanned the faces of the men in the images splayed across the wall, a silent gallery of users and abusers. She wondered fleetingly what separated her from them, and if the shield of justice was after all only a façade to hide the crimes of those sworn to uphold the law.
