Justice in the Shadows

by Radclyffe

  Rebecca leaned forward at the end of the table, her palms flat on the granite surface, and met each individual’s gaze as she spoke. “Here’s the game plan, then. Mitchell, you work with Dr. Rawlings reviewing the Internet porn user profiles. We still need to see if we can get a connection there to someone local. Catherine, can you spare us some time today?”

  “I’ve cleared my schedule for most of the day. I can come back after hours this evening if necessary.”

  “Thanks.” Rebecca held her lover’s eyes for an extra second, the hard edge in her blue eyes softening for a heartbeat before she looked away. “I’ve got a slim lead on one of the girls from LongJohn’s video.” She explained about the possible connection between the Asian girl in the video and the prostitute named Lucy. “I’ve got street sources looking for her.”

  Mitchell stiffened. Sandy. She worked to keep her expression neutral. Okay, so Sandy’s the sergeant’s CI. I know that. That’s Sandy’s business. But it rankled her, and she wasn’t sure why. Combing the streets for information for the detective was no more dangerous for Sandy—in fact, probably less so—than prostituting herself. The sergeant wouldn’t mistreat her or ask for sexual favors, which Mitchell knew sometimes happened. But Frye has a hold on her. They have a relationship. Mitchell stared at the tabletop, realizing she was jealous, and realizing, too, what that meant. I’m hooked on her.

  “Mitchell, you with us?” Rebecca asked sharply.

  Mitchell jerked upright. “Yes, ma’am.”

  Rebecca gave her a hard stare. “As I was saying, Watts and I will chase the street leads on the Internet porn setup. Where do we stand on the inside action at Ziggie’s?”

  Jason said, “Jasmine will take Mitch to the Troc tonight. Introduce him around. We should be good to go for him to hit Ziggie’s within a day or two.”

  “Mitch? Who the hell is Mitch?” Watts barked. The mention of Jasmine set his teeth on edge.

  “Friend of mine,” Mitchell replied evenly, meeting his gaze.

  “Oh for fuck’s sake.” Watts got set to say more but a deadly look from Rebecca had him coughing into his fist instead. He contented himself with a snicker. “Right. Mitchie.”

  Mitchell straightened in her seat, almost seeming to grow in size. Her alto voice resonated with warning. “That’s Mitch. Not Mitchie.”

  For a second, Watts just stared. Then the corner of his mouth twitched and finally, he grinned. “Okay, kid. Okay. Don’t get your...balls...in an uproar.”

  “Wouldn’t think of it, Detective. Sir.”

  Rebecca rubbed the bridge of her nose. Christ. The two of them are like kids. But she recognized the camaraderie beneath the jibes, and that’s what made the team work. That’s what made someone put their life on the line for you without a second thought. “Do you two think you could give me your full attention, or would that be asking too much?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Mitchell replied briskly.

  “Sure, Sarge.” Watts smothered his smile.

  “Fine. We’re looking for any information on the guy in the sex video who might work or might have worked at Ziggie’s, and any information the girls there might have about how the videos are getting made. Who organizes it, who picks the girls, when and where they’re shooting the flicks. Anything to point us to a location. Questions?”

  No one had any.

  “We’ll meet here at the usual time tonight. If anyone gets anything before then, I’ll expect a call. No one makes a move without my say-so.”

  As the group dispersed, Watts sidled up to Mitchell. In a voice too low for Rebecca to hear, he asked, “So, kid—what’s the deal? When you walked in this morning, you had that ‘just got laid last night’ look.”

  “Yeah?” Mitchell replied curiously. “How can you recognize it, considering how long it must be since you’ve looked that way?”

  Watts shook his head remorsefully. He had a hard-assed female partner who outranked him, which was bad enough, but now he had a snot-nosed rookie giving him shit. He laughed out loud. Life was good.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Rebecca slumped into the closest chair and blew out a long breath. “Jesus, what a crew.”

  “How are you doing?” Catherine pulled her own chair closer and rested her hand on Rebecca’s forearm.

  “Okay.” Rebecca gave her a weary smile. “I feel a bit like I’m walking a tightrope without a net here, which I guess I am.” She rubbed her face. “I can’t believe it’s Henry. Or maybe I just don’t want to believe it.”

  “Maybe it isn’t?”

  Rebecca shrugged. “Sloan seemed convinced, and she’s good at what she does. Better than good. I haven’t gotten all the details yet. She was in no shape to be questioned. Mostly I wanted to kick her ass, anyhow.”

  “Ah.” Catherine ran her fingers slowly up and down Rebecca’s sleeve. “She’s all right, though?”

  “She’s skirting the edge, but she’s tough. As long as Michael is okay, I imagine Sloan will get it together.” Rebecca raised her hand and captured Catherine’s fingers, lacing hers with them. “I hope I’m not as big a pain in the ass as she is.”

  Catherine lifted their joined hands to her lips and kissed the back of Rebecca’s fingers, saying nothing.

  “That bad, huh?” Rebecca met Catherine’s eyes and grinned ruefully. “Then I am even luckier than I thought that you love me.”

  “I adore you, and it has nothing to do with luck. Rebecca, darling—you’re doing an excellent job with this investigation. Even I can see that much.”

  “I don’t know about that. I’ve got Sloan going rogue—or more rogue, I should say, Watts and Mitchell taking potshots at each other, and Sandy and Mitchell—I don’t even want to know what.” Rebecca leaned back and closed her eyes. “Christ.”

  “This situation is strained for everyone,” Catherine observed. “You’ve brought together a disparate group of people and asked them to work closely together under severe time constraints, which is a significant undertaking. Add to that the personal challenges—why, just asking William to handle the concept of Jasmine is a feat in itself—”

  Rebecca laughed.

  “Well,” Catherine smiled, too. “You see my point.”

  “Maybe we need group therapy.”

  “It’s actually not a bad idea, or even a new concept. Many businesses—”

  “No way.” Rebecca straightened, opened her eyes, and leaned over to kiss Catherine gently. “I love you more than anything in the world, but the last thing I want is to get up close and personal with Bill Watts.”

  Catherine laughed. “Just a thought. We’ll hold it in reserve for extreme circumstances.”

  “Very extreme.” Rebecca kissed Catherine again, then drew away with a sigh. “I have to go. Captain Henry paged me just before the briefing. He wants a status report.”

  Completely serious now, Catherine said, “Rebecca, be careful. If he is involved somehow...”

  “Don’t worry.” Rebecca stood, her expression suddenly that of a hunter sensing her quarry. “Besides, it’s a chance for me to see if he’s trying to milk me for the kind of information that would be valuable to someone else.”

  It’s a dangerous game you’re playing. Catherine said nothing, because this was the life her lover led, but it frightened her nonetheless. As she watched Rebecca walk away, she wondered if she would ever get used to it.

  *

  “So, bring me up to speed, Sergeant.”

  Rebecca sat in the same chair, in the same office, across from the same man just as she had done a thousand times before. This time, however, she looked at him as she would look at a suspect, with an eye and an ear tuned for the slight word-slip or unguarded expression that would point to guilt or transgression. The dark eyes that gazed back at her were clear and hard and unwavering.

  “We have a couple of promising new leads on the pornography ring, but nothing solid yet, sir. We’re going at that as we discussed, using both the computer angle and our street sources.” She
purposefully kept things vague. No names, no particulars as to timing. His reaction was what she was after. Would he bite?

  Henry studied the chiseled features and sharp eyes. She’d always played her cards close to the vest, even with her superiors. “Promising. You wouldn’t be trying to snow me, now would you, Sergeant? String me along so that I don’t pull the plug on a cold investigation?”

  “No, sir, not at all.” Is he fishing now? “As I said, we’re in the process of chasing down a couple of good tips.”

  “Tips that could get us an arrest?”

  “That’s my goal, sir.”

  “Because intelligence gathering is all fine and dandy, Frye, but arrests are what boost the division’s stats.” Henry leaned back in his chair. “The feds made us look bad. I want to salvage something from that operation. Talk about FUBAR.”

  Fucked up beyond all repair. Maybe, maybe not. Rebecca’s jaw clenched, and she consciously made an effort to relax it. “I was there, sir. I want to finish what I started, too.”

  “Fine. I can buy you another week or so.”

  “Thanks.”

  “You done with Whitaker?”

  Not yet. Rebecca shrugged. “I think so, but I’ll have to keep that last appointment.”

  “Good.”

  His tone indicated the discussion was over and Rebecca stood. “Thank you, sir.”

  “Just remember—I want to know as soon as you’re ready to move on something.”

  “Of course.” She regarded him impassively. Unless, of course, it’s you.

  Rebecca turned and walked from the room. The door had not yet swung closed behind her when Captain Henry reached for the phone.

  *

  Catherine passed a stack of transcripts across the table to Mitchell. “I’ve ranked this first group in order of probability, using the identifiers you initially devised to profile LongJohn.”

  “Thanks.” Mitchell glanced at the clock. They’d been working in near-silence for hours, she at the computer and Catherine at the table nearby. It had been a surprisingly comfortable silence. Jason was in another part of the office, running the suspect checks, or more accurately, hacking into confidential databases that would provide the deep background information they needed.

  “So what happens now?” Catherine asked.

  “Jason and I will attempt to determine these users’ true identities, either by direct back-tracing through ISP addresses and servers or by phishing.”

  “That sounds like it could take a tremendous amount of time.”

  “You’re right. It’s the kind of thing that entire electronic surveillance units spend weeks or months on.” Mitchell shrugged, undeterred by the scope of the task. It was almost as much fun as being on the streets. “But we have an advantage.”

  “Oh?”

  “We have you.”

  Catherine blinked, uncharacteristically caught off guard. There was absolutely nothing flirtatious or suggestive in the young officer’s tone or expression, but Catherine was acutely aware of the fact that they were working alone for the first time. Although their therapeutic relationship was on hold at the moment, certain boundaries needed to be maintained. Some would have said she shouldn’t have been working with Mitchell at all. But life’s circumstances often put one in situations that defied the rules, and this was one.

  “You mean the profiling I’m doing makes that big a difference?”

  “Absolutely,” Mitchell said enthusiastically. “You’ve saved us days, maybe weeks. Instead of random searches, we’ve got targeted subjects. You’re like a...a magic bullet.”

  “Well,” Catherine remarked dryly, “that’s the first time anything psychological has been given such a dramatic descriptor.”

  “That’s what’s so incredible about what we’re doing here,” Mitchell continued, her eyes bright. “We’re like...a multidisciplinary team. We’re, hell, we’re practically a self-contained mini-division. The detective sergeant should be a captain, with what she’s put together here.”

  Catherine was silent. Mitchell’s hero worship was touching, and not without cause. The psychiatrist’s thoughts, however, were of her lover, and of the loyalty and respect she commanded simply by example. Oh, Rebecca. You really were born for this work. No matter the cost to you, or to us, it’s what you have to do.

  “Well, then,” Catherine finally responded. “We had best keep up our end of things. Where’s the next batch? I have a bit more time.”

  “Jason has them.” Mitchell stood, then hesitated. “I, uh...I wanted to say thanks again. For your help with the disciplinary thing.”

  “You’re welcome.” Catherine hid her surprise. “But I only helped set the record straight.”

  “You did more than that. I’m not sure how, but you...helped me realize some things, things about myself.” Like why I felt what I felt in that alley. Like how much Sandy really means to me. “About what I was...feeling.”

  “I’m glad.”

  “Yeah, me, too.” Mitchell grinned. “So, I’ll get those transcripts.”

  “I’ll get us some more coffee.” Catherine looked after the other woman, wondering what had happened to put the new light in her eyes, although she had a very good idea what, or who, was the cause. Rebecca, with her cop’s instincts, had very likely been right all along. Officer Mitchell looked like she was in love.

  *

  “You really think it’s him?” Watts asked when Rebecca pulled away from the curb, pointing the Vette south on Tenth.

  “I don’t know. He’s in the right place. It’s got to be someone with rank.” Rebecca slowed for a stop sign, turned right onto Passyunk Avenue, then drove into the heart of South Philadelphia. “I can’t see this being some low-level cop or clerk. It just doesn’t play.”

  “Yeah,” Watts agreed dispiritedly. “I have to go with you there. But fuck, a police captain in Zamora’s pocket?”

  Rebecca cut him a look. “Have you forgotten your history? You think in the Rizzo era there weren’t almost as many dirty cops as clean ones in this city?”

  “That was thirty years ago.” He sighed, remembering the time when Frank Rizzo’s political machine in City Hall controlled the police and fire departments, and all three were more than friendly with underworld figures. “But, yeah, I hear you. Man, I hate to think it’s him, though. Not like I love the guy or anything, but still...”

  “He’s one of us.”

  “Yeah.” Watts looked out the window. “Where we goin’?”

  “We’ve got a date with some girls.”

  His eyebrows raised. His voice sounded hopeful. “Yeah?” At the look from Rebecca, he swallowed his grin. “That cute little whore come through for you?”

  “Sandy,” Rebecca said very softly. “Her name is Sandy.”

  The warning note that resonated in her voice made his gonads tighten, pull up, and run for cover. “Okay. So, she’s yours now. Got it. Sorry.”

  “Sandy found us a girl. I don’t know if it’s the girl. We’re going to buy them breakfast and find out.”

  “Breakfast? It’s almost dinner time.”

  “Not for them. They probably just got up.”

  “Workin’ girls and a double date. My favorite.”

  Rebecca ground her teeth and pulled into an angled slot in front of the Melrose Diner.

  “You sit. I talk.”

  “Sure, sure, Sarge.”

  Once inside the noisy, crowded diner, they spied Sandy and a smooth-faced Asian girl who looked about fifteen seated on one side of a red vinyl-covered booth. The chrome-edged tabletop was original, attested to by the scarred Formica. Sandy and the girl had heavy white ceramic mugs of coffee in front of them. Despite the early fall chill, both young women were underdressed in skimpy tops and bare bellies above the uniform of the day—jeans cut so low that wisps of pubic hair would have peeked out had they not been shaved.

  Watts slid in first, then Rebecca. A waitress stopped with a coffeepot in hand and said, “What youse havin’?”


  Both girls ordered meals that would have given a truck driver pause. Watts and Rebecca ordered coffee.

  “Hiya, Sandy,” Rebecca said softly, just a touch of menace in her tone. “This Lucy?”

  “Yeah.” Sandy sounded sullen and did not look Rebecca in the eye. It was important for Sandy’s safety as well as her future credibility that she not appear to have a friendly relationship with the police. “So we’re here. You promised you’d pay.”

  “Later. If we like what you have to say.” Rebecca was impressed that Sandy had gotten the girl to agree to a meet. It helped that Sandy was so well known on the streets. Lucy, if that was really her name, probably trusted Sandy where she might have been suspect of anyone else. But then again, it beat making twenty dollars on her back, trust or no trust. “If we don’t, you miss dinner and I’ll be dropping around when you least expect it to ruin business for a while.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” Sandy shifted on the seat, clearly unhappy. “So ask, then leave us alone.”

  The girl with Sandy had kept her eyes on the tabletop the entire time. Rebecca slid Jason’s composite of the guy in the sex video into her line of view. “Know him?”

  The girl shook her head.

  “You sure?”

  Head nod.

  “Ever seen him?” Watts grumbled.

  The girl shrugged.

  Rebecca’s pulse jumped. Good man. Rebecca slid a folded twenty across the table and under the photo. “Where?”

  “Around the clubs,” the girl replied after a pause. She had no accent and her voice was soft, gentle. “He drives.”

  “Drives?” Rebecca glanced at Sandy, who made an I don’t know gesture. “What does that mean?”

  “He brings some of the girls to the clubs.”