Justice in the Shadows

by Radclyffe

  Watts kept one eye on the prisoner as he shrugged out of his jacket. With one hand, he held it out in Sandy’s direction, keeping his gaze averted. “Cover up. You’ll freeze your tits off.”

  “What, you seen enough now?” But Sandy took the garment and pulled it on as Trudy scrambled to find their clothes. She was shivering, and it wasn’t just because there was no heat. She didn’t think she’d be warm again until she could see Dell. It took Dell’s eyes, Dell’s hands, to touch the places in her that were cold.

  “If you’re real good, sweet piece,” Watts said so the scumbag on the floor could hear, “I’ll let you show me some more later.”

  “Blow me,” Sandy snapped.

  “Aw, honey,” Watts finally looked in her direction, glad to see that she was semiclothed and to hear that the tremor had left her voice, “that’s my line.”

  *

  The alley was dark and the bricks against Mitchell’s back were rough and cold. When the side door banged open and a large dark figure hurtled through, Mitchell had one quick flash of that other alley, that other night, and then her adrenaline started pumping and all she saw was the patrol officers tackle the perp. He was big and strong, and he didn’t go easy. Both uniforms were on him, and still he writhed and twisted and kicked. The alley reverberated with shouts, grunts, and curses. Frye had said for her to stay clear unless needed, and it looked like she was.

  Mitchell sprinted toward the action from her spot just inside the mouth of the alley where Frye had positioned her. She was three feet away from the thrashing snarl of arms and legs when she saw the glint of steel. The suspect pulled a blade from his boot and swung it in a flashing arc toward the back of the female officer who had him pinned. Mitchell dove.

  “Knife!” she shouted while still in midair.

  The blade caught her in the left thigh before the second officer grabbed the suspect’s arm and efficiently snapped it. For the first few seconds, the wound didn’t hurt at all, and then the pain rose up like a wave of fire and took her breath away. She rolled away, grabbed for the shank buried in her thigh, and reflexively pulled it out. It took all her willpower to clamp down on the scream that threatened to erupt from her. Oh fuck, fuck! God. It hurts.

  From somewhere close, she heard shouts and then a steady deep voice that seemed to penetrate the pandemonium with calm strength. Pulling in air, Mitchell tried to get to her feet. Instead, her stomach heaved, and she choked back the bile that surged through her chest. She groaned and tried again to sit up.

  “Stay put, Mitchell,” Rebecca said sharply as she bent down. “Where did he get you?”

  “Leg...ah, jeez...it...hurts.”

  “Let me get a look.”

  “I’m...okay, Sergeant,” Mitchell gasped, coughing. “I think...it’s just a...nick.”

  “We’ll let the doctors decide.”

  “Sandy...is she okay? Did he—”

  “She’s fine. He never touched her.” At least that’s the story unless she tells you different.

  “Tell her...I’m all right.”

  “You can tell her yourself in a little while.” Rebecca observed the pool of blood beneath Mitchell’s leg and her stomach roiled. There looked to be a lot of it. She yanked off her jacket and wrapped the sleeve tightly around Mitchell’s thigh, then pulled out her cell phone and called for an ambulance. Kneeling, she put one hand on Mitchell’s head and with the other applied steady pressure over the leaking wound in the younger woman’s thigh. “We’ll get you squared away ASAP. You just take it easy.”

  “Sergeant,” Mitchell muttered, for some reason having trouble focusing on Rebecca’s face, even though it was quite near. “I...didn’t mean...to blow my cover.”

  “You didn’t, Mitchell,” Rebecca said grimly. Mitchell’s skin was clammy. “Don’t worry.”

  “Ser...geant,” Mitchell whispered urgently.

  Rebecca leaned over, trying to hear the faint words. When she finally made them out, she laughed softly and brushed the hair from Mitchell’s eyes. “I’ll take care of it.”

  She glanced around. As instructed, the two uniforms had already taken the prisoner out to their patrol car, and she and her wounded officer were alone in the alley. Jesus, I just hope that Watts doesn’t come out right now.

  Then she reached down and unzipped Mitch’s pants.

  *

  Catherine jerked awake at the first ring of the phone, her heart pounding. Her eyes flew to the clock. 5:44.

  She knew instantly that she was alone, and she knew with absolute certainty what the call was about. Oh my God. No!

  “Dr. Rawlings.”

  “Catherine, I’m fine,” Rebecca said immediately.

  The relief was swift and sweet, but short-lived. “What is it?”

  “Mitchell’s on the way to University. Knife wound. I can’t leave the scene...”

  “I’m on my way,” Catherine said at once as she pushed back the covers and rose. “Are you truly all right?”

  “Yes, I’m fine. I’m waiting for Flanagan’s team and for Sloan to get here. Then I’ll be over.”

  “All right, darling,” Catherine said quietly as she moved about gathering her clothes. “I’ll handle things.”

  “Look, Catherine...” There was a beat of silence. “Watts is bringing Sandy in, too...her and another girl. They, uh...shit...they need to be examined...for forensic evidence.”

  Catherine closed her eyes. “Of course. I’ll call a friend of mine in GYN to do it.”

  “Thanks. Can you bring them some clothes, too? We’ll need theirs.”

  “I can’t guarantee the fit, but I’ll find something.”

  “I’m sorry—”

  “No,” Catherine said sharply. Too sharply, she knew, but the fear had not quite abated. “I want to do this.”

  “I’ll be there soon.” Another pause. “Catherine, take good care of Mitchell.”

  “Like she was my own.”

  “I love you. I gotta run.”

  The phone went dead.

  I love you.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  “Interesting team you’ve got here, Frye,” Dee Flanagan said as she stood just inside the warehouse door, hands on hips, surveying what was now her crime scene. Her blue-jacketed CSI techs were busy photographing the studio, diagramming the layout, and collecting and cataloging evidence. To her left, an astonishingly sexy woman in clothes that should rightfully only be worn between the hours of midnight and five a.m. sat conferring with Sloan before a bank of video monitors, computer screens, and other electronic equipment.

  Following Flanagan’s gaze, Rebecca smiled briefly. Once the initial furor had settled, she’d asked Jasmine if she wanted to go home and change, but she’d merely said, “Not until we get this system locked down.”

  Rebecca shrugged. “Unconventional, perhaps, but unparalleled.”

  “I’m going to assume they have some kind of departmental sanction and let them do whatever they need to do.” Flanagan fixed Rebecca with a hard stare. “But all of the evidence in this room, forensic or electronic, is my responsibility now.”

  “There’s a video disk of the...activity...tonight,” Rebecca said quietly. She thought of Sandy and Trudy and, remembering the sight of the man on the bed with them, fury spiked in her gut. “The material is of a sensitive nature. I don’t want anyone in the department to see it.”

  “I’ll secure it myself.”

  Rebecca nodded. “Thanks. I have to get to headquarters to supervise the arrests, contact the DA’s office, and set up for interrogation. I’ve also got a wounded officer—”

  “I don’t need you here anymore, Frye. In fact, the fewer cops hanging around, the better. You just get in the way, bother my people, and trample evidence.” Flanagan lifted a shoulder in casual disregard of Frye’s rank and position. “I’ll keep an eye on things here.”

  Because she trusted Flanagan as she trusted almost no one else in the department, with the exception of Watts, and because she needed to s
ee for herself that Mitchell was all right, Rebecca acquiesced. “Okay. As soon as Sloan is satisfied that the electronic data is secure, you can take anything out of here that you need to.”

  Again, Flanagan nodded, her eyes everywhere at once, ensuring that everything was being handled appropriately. “If there’s something that Sloan thinks might need...ah...special treatment, I’ll sign for it to preserve the chain of evidence.”

  “Good enough. I appreciate the help.”

  “Looks like you made a big score tonight, Frye. Nice going.”

  It was true, but it wasn’t everything she wanted. They had a piece of the puzzle, and they were likely to get media-worthy arrests from it. But she didn’t yet have the source of the leak within the department, and she didn’t have Jeff Cruz and Jimmy Hogan’s killer. She didn’t have Michael’s assailant. They’d made a start, but the job was far from finished.

  “What I’ve got is an officer in the hospital.” Rebecca sighed and rubbed her forehead. “Hell. Thanks for covering me here, Dee.”

  “Go take care of business, Detective.” Flanagan patted Rebecca’s back and walked off to chastise a tech for failing to blue-light the sheets on the bed for bodily fluids before bagging them.

  Rebecca crossed to where her colleagues were working and leaned down to speak confidentially. “I need to leave. I want to square things away at the station and then get over to the hospital.”

  Sloan looked up, her eyes intensely focused. “We’ve got hours of work here. With luck, we’ll be able to access the server information and link directly to the mid-level distributors like LongJohnXXX. We just broadcast a message to everyone receiving the feeds from here that the system is temporarily down for maintenance. Hopefully no one will suspect it’s been breached and start dumping data at the other end.”

  “Good. I spoke with the CSI chief. You’re green-lighted to do whatever you need to do with this equipment and data, but make sure that everything is documented.”

  “Of course,” Sloan said smoothly. As much as they need to know.

  Rebecca clapped Sloan on the shoulder. “Thanks.”

  “Will you call us about Dell?” Jasmine asked.

  “As soon as I hear anything.”

  *

  “Look, I don’t need to be examined by any gynecologist. The guy didn’t leave anything on or in me,” Sandy said hotly. “And believe me, I’d know.”

  “It’s just routine. You tell the doctor whatever you want, and he’ll decide what needs to be done.” Watts pulled the unmarked surveillance sedan into the turnaround in front of the emergency department at University Hospital. “But it’s important for the case, okay?”

  Sandy eyed him suspiciously. He hadn’t looked at her once since they’d gotten into the car, and he hadn’t insulted her, made any lewd comments, or been the least bit suggestive. Something was wrong. There was only one thing she could think of that he would keep from her. Her stomach cramped.

  “Where’s Dell?”

  “The operation is still ongoing,” Watts replied stiffly. “Let’s just get you taken care of—”

  “I’m not going anywhere until you tell me where Dell is.” Sandy’s heart was racing, and now her stomach threatened to heave. “Now, or I walk.”

  To emphasize her point, she pushed the car door open and climbed out. She’d given Watts back his jacket and stood in the early-morning chill in just her scant blouse and skirt, but it wasn’t the cold that made her shake. She was more scared than she had been in a long, long time.

  “Jesus H. Christ.” Watts looked pointedly into in the backseat and said to Trudy, “You. Stay put.” Then he got out, slammed his door, and faced Sandy across the hood of the car. “Look, she said she’d call you as soon as she could.”

  “I want to talk to her right now. Get her on the phone.” The longer he stalled, the more frightened she became. Oh, baby, what’s happened? Where are you?

  “Fuck me.” Watts rubbed his face with both hands, wondering what he’d done to deserve this ass-end of the detail. “Okay, just take it easy, okay? She got a little dinged up, and she’s in the ER being looked—hey!”

  He stared after Sandy’s retreating back as she raced toward the emergency room entrance. In the next second, he yanked open the car door. The girl inside regarded him disdainfully. “You. Let’s go.”

  He took Trudy’s arm carefully and led her rapidly toward the ER. Frye would have his balls if he lost either of them. Come to think of it, she’d probably have his balls anyway. Then he’d fit right in with the rest of the team. Wonderful.

  *

  Catherine heard the commotion before she could make out the words beneath the shouts. She stepped outside the curtain just in time to witness Sandy rush headlong down the corridor with an irate emergency technician close on her heels and shouting.

  “Hey, you! I told you—you can’t come back here.”

  The technician outweighed Sandy by a hundred pounds and clearly intended to throttle her once he caught her, and she was almost in his grasp.

  “It’s all right,” Catherine said as she reached out and caught Sandy’s arm, then stepped between Sandy and her pursuer. “She’s with me.”

  The technician gave Catherine a mistrustful stare before his eyes flicked to the ID badge hanging around her neck on a red lanyard. Although he looked as if he wanted to argue, he merely grunted in annoyance and stalked off.

  “Are you hurt?” Catherine asked immediately, noting the wild look in Sandy’s eyes. She also remembered Rebecca’s statement that Sandy and another girl needed to be evaluated. “Have you seen Dr. Valeria?”

  Sandy shook her head vehemently. Then she took a deep breath and seemed to control herself by sheer force of will. “Is Dell here?”

  “Right inside,” Catherine replied with a tilt of her head toward the curtain. “The surgeon just left to review some of her tests.”

  “Is she—” Sandy’s voice broke. “Is she going to be okay?”

  Catherine felt the shiver that coursed through the slender frame and saw the terror swim below the surface of her blue eyes. “Yes. Didn’t they tell you anything?”

  Sandy shook her head, afraid to speak.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry. She’s been injured...a knife wound to the thigh, but she’s stable.”

  “Can I see her?”

  The question was asked with such wistfulness that Catherine’s heart ached. “I don’t see why not.” She took Sandy’s hand and with the other reached to pull the curtain aside. “Just for a minute, and then you need to be checked out, too. Deal?”

  Sandy nodded in agreement. She’d do anything, as long as they let her see for herself that Dell was not going to leave her.

  “She’s going to be fine,” Catherine emphasized as Sandy brushed past her.

  “Sure,” Sandy said flatly. Like anyone would tell me the truth.

  It was worse than she expected.

  Mitchell lay on a stretcher, eyes closed, with intravenous lines running into both arms. And she was white. Not pale. White. Sandy’s heart sank.

  A gentle hand touched her shoulder.

  “She’s been sedated. She lost a little blood, but her vital signs are stable. She will be all right.”

  Sandy searched Catherine’s eyes. Warm, caring, honest. And something else in their depths, too—understanding. She knows about us. And the acceptance she saw in Catherine’s gaze, more than anything else, calmed her fears. “Thanks.”

  “You can go talk to her.” Catherine stepped back. “I’ll be right outside.”

  Slowly, Sandy walked to the head of the stretcher. She touched her fingers to Mitchell’s cheek. “Dell? Baby?”

  Mitchell’s lids flickered open, her pupils wide and unfocused.

  “Hey, rookie,” Sandy whispered softly.

  Mitchell’s lips twitched. “Hiya, Sandy.” She blinked, her vision cleared, and she focused on Sandy’s face. Sandy smiled, but her eyes looked scared. “It’s okay.”

  “You hurting?” S
andy’s lip trembled and she caught it in her teeth. She stroked her hand over Mitchell’s hair.

  “Not so much. They gave me stuff.” Mitchell raised her hand and grasped Sandy’s weakly. “You? We get there in time? He didn’t—”

  “No,” Sandy said quickly. “Nothing happened. You did good, baby.”

  Mitchell sighed. “I love you.”

  The tears came. Sandy couldn’t remember the last time she hadn’t been able to stop the tears. But it was all too big, too much to hold inside. Letting Mitchell into her life, loving her, the terrible fear of losing her. She turned her face away to hide the anguish, but she had nowhere else to go. Everything that mattered was in that room.

  “Honey,” Mitchell said soothingly. “Don’t...jeez, couldn’t you...yell at me for being too slow or something?”

  Sandy sniffed. Smiled tremulously. “Were you?”

  “Maybe a little. But Frye put me way back in the alley...I had to run a long way.” Mitchell struggled to keep her eyes open, but the drugs were winning. “Don’t worry, ’kay? I’ll be...outta here soon.”

  “Yeah, I know.” Sandy leaned close and kissed her. “I love you, Dell.”

  Mitchell closed her eyes. “You go home. Don’t worry.”

  It was terrifying to watch her slip away. Sandy brushed her lips over Mitchell’s ear. “I’ll just wait for you.”

  The curtain moved and Sandy looked up, instantly on guard. A dark-haired, dark-eyed woman in navy scrubs stepped in and raised a quizzical eyebrow in Sandy’s direction before her eyes moved automatically to the monitor above Mitchell’s bed.

  “Hi. I’m Dr. Torveau, the trauma surgeon.”

  “Hi,” Sandy replied warily.

  “Are you family or...?” Torveau saw the young girl tremble and try to hide it behind a belligerent expression. “You want to sit down?”

  Sandy shook her head. She wasn’t sure what to say. She didn’t want to get Mitchell into trouble by revealing their relationship. With enormous relief, she watched Catherine step through the separation in the heavy white curtain that enclosed them.