by Frank Zafiro
After almost a minute, Tower broke the silence, “Captain—”
“You’re dismissed, detective.”
Tower gaped at him, surprised. Then he rose and stalked out of the room.
Reott watched him go. Once the door snapped shut behind him, he turned his attention to Crawford.
The Major Crimes Lieutenant looked back at him, his face saggy and his expression unreadable. “That was a little harsh, Mike,” he said.
Reott didn’t answer. He pulled open his drawer and withdrew a pair of cigars, offering one to Crawford. Crawford paused, then accepted it. Reott fired his up, then handed the Zippo lighter to Crawford.
Once both men had a cherry coal at the end of the cigar, the mood in the room seemed to loosen. The smoke somehow alleviated the tension in the air.
“It probably was a little harsh,” Reott agreed. “But I stand by my decision.”
“Which I agree with, for the record. MacLeod’s been through too much already. Using her as bait would be a mistake.”
“Tower doesn’t think so.”
Crawford drew in smoke, then blew it at the ceiling. “It’s Tower’s job to catch this guy. He’s failing. He wants to try anything that might work.”
“You think he’s too close to this case?”
“Absolutely. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Reott peered across the desk at Crawford through the blue smoke trails between them. “That’s a dangerous game to play.”
“We live in a dangerous world,” Crawford replied easily. “Look, Tower pisses me off. That’s no secret. He’s a smartass who thinks he knows better than everyone else. But he’s goddamn dedicated. And some days, he’s a good detective.” He took another deep puff on the cigar, seeming to savor the sensation. “He cares, Mike. He cares. And if it means catching a very bad man, then I’m going to ride that horse until it drops.”
Reott turned the cigar in his fingers. “I don’t know how comfortable I am with that philosophy. A guy like Tower could burn out.”
“Maybe,” Crawford conceded. “In fact, at some point, he probably will. He’s wired too emotionally for this job.” Crawford leaned forward slightly, his shoulders hunching. “But come on, Mike. You’re a leader. You know you have to push your people sometimes.”
“Maybe, but not like this. What you’re talking about is a level usually reserved for soldiers at war.”
Crawford smiled grimly. “We are at war. And it’s a war we’re losing a little more every year.”
“Jesus,” Reott said, shaking his head. “That’s pretty dark. Who shit in your Cheerios this morning?”
“Today? The Rainy Day Rapist,” Crawford said. “But he’s just another in a long line of reality checks.”
Reott sighed. “So where do we go from here?”
“We need a full court press,” Crawford said. “I’ll throw another of my Major Crimes teams into the mix and get them out there shaking bushes. You tell your patrol troops to stop and FI any single white male who looks remotely suspicious. That’ll hopefully generate some leads for Tower to follow up.”
Reott agreed. “Call the media, too. Get that sketch out to the public.”
Crawford laughed derisively. “The Mr. Every Other White Guy drawing? We’ll have sightings at every bowling alley, grocery aisle and video store.”
“All the more for Tower to follow up on, then,” Reott said with a tight grin. “Now what about the threat to my officer?”
“Tower’s right on that count. We need to put men on MacLeod’s house. The guy might be foolish enough to come poking around.” Crawford considered. “And she needs protection, too.”
“A bodyguard, you mean?”
Crawford shrugged. “Put her with a partner while she’s on patrol. When she’s not working, we set her up at a motel. Put another cop with her in the adjoining room.”
“For how long?”
“I don’t know,” Crawford said. “You’re the Captain. You tell me.”
Reott smoked for a few moments, thinking. He was out of good ideas. He didn’t know how long. He didn’t even know if it would work or not. Finally, he nodded to Crawford. “Do it,” he said, putting as much confidence into his voice as he could muster. “All of it.”
2024 hours
Katie stared back at Tower, her gaze shifting between the detective and Lieutenant Saylor. “You’re kidding me,” she said.
Saylor shook his head. “This comes straight from the Captain of Patrol.”
Katie turned her attention to Tower. “Was this your idea?”
Tower stared back at her. “Not this part of it.”
Katie sighed in frustration. “I can take care of myself,” she told Saylor. “I don’t need a partner all the time, El-Tee. And I don’t need a bodyguard. That’s ridiculous.”
“You’ve received a death threat,” Saylor said.
“I get death threats once a shift,” Katie replied, bristling. “Sir.”
“This is different,” Tower said quietly. “This guy has shown that he isn’t simply talking. He acts.”
She swallowed, knowing that he was right about that. Still, she wondered if this had more to do with catching a rapist or with the fact that she was a woman. If she were a man, would the bodyguard be on the table? Or would the lieutenant slap the man on the shoulder with a macho exhortation to “be careful” and call it enough?
You’ll never know for sure, Katie. Just do your job.
Katie met the Lieutenant’s eyes. “Fine. I’ll do it.”
Tension noticeably eased in the room.
“But I want to choose who my bodyguard will be,” she added.
Saylor and Sergeant Shen exchanged a glance. Then the lieutenant asked, “Okay, fair enough. Who do you want?”
Katie didn’t hesitate. “Tom Chisolm.”
2217 hours
Tower sat on the small patio, wrapped in a blanket. A beer nestled between his legs, his right hand wrapped loosely around the neck. The ornamental blanket belonged on the small couch inside the house and barely covered his shoulders and chest. It merely provided him some temporary protection against the light mist of rain in the air.
It isn’t even really falling, he thought to himself. It was almost more like a fog than rainfall. Just a light, stinging mist that bit into his cheeks and ears and coated his slacks. He felt the heaviness of the droplets as they gathered in his hair. Each time he raised the bottle of beer to his lips, the cold slap of the water smacked his hand.
I should be drinking a hot buttered rum instead.
Tower smiled grimly. Or maybe some hot buttered hemlock.
The enormity of the past week settled in on his shoulders with considerable weight. Captain Reott’s condemnation of his lack of progress rang in his ears, louder still because Tower knew the Patrol Captain was right. What breakthroughs had he engineered in this case? The only one that could even be called progress was the victim Heather Torin coming forward and that wasn’t his doing.
No, it was safe to say that he’d been about as useful as a handbrake on a canoe.
What’s worse, he didn’t see things improving. He still had little useful physical evidence to convict the Rainy Day Rapist, even if he waltzed into police headquarters and surrendered. In his phone conversation with the prosecutor, Patrick Hinote had expressed concern that he’d be able to overcome corpus delecti issues even if the suspect confessed. All in all, it was a giant bag of crap.
Tower lifted the beer bottle to his mouth and took a deep draught. The foam at the end of his drink and the weight of the bottle told him he was empty. Now he had to decide whether to go inside for another one or simply sit in the rain. Since he was four deep into the six pack of Kokanee he’d brought home after work, this initially presented a difficult logic problem. After a moment, though, the only thought that resonated with him was that beer was good and he needed more. Besides, he had to take a leak.
The rain continued to fall on him while he mustered the energy to get
up and go inside. He knew Stephanie would have a word or two with him for using the ornamental blanket in such an unorthodox fashion, but at this point, he didn’t care.
Tower let out a long sigh. Crawford had used the words ‘full court press,’ but he knew what that translated to. His case was being taken away from him. Finch and Elias were on loan from Robbery/Homicide, but it wouldn’t be long before the status of lead detective would drift to one of them. Probably Finch, who was the more taciturn of the two. Tower imagined that the next crime scene would be the last where he was considered the lead, and even that one would probably be a ‘collaborative’ scene in order to begin the transition.
“Fuck it,” he whispered. “I don’t care who gets credit. I just want to catch this son of a bitch.”
He wished that were one hundred percent true, but even four beers deep, he knew it wasn’t entirely so. So he sat a little bit longer, paying penance with a full bladder in the cold, stinging misty rain, clutching an empty beer bottle, and thinking ill thoughts.
Sunday, April 28th
0848 hours
Katie tossed her small suitcase into the overstuffed chair. “I guess they spare no expense,” she groused. “This place is barely one step above a Motel 6.”
“Hey,” Chisolm chided her, “I love Motel 6.”
“That figures.”
Chisolm shrugged. “They leave the light on.”
Katie rolled her eyes and flopped backward onto the queen-sized bed. “This is so stupid. If they are staking out my house, why can’t I just stay there?”
Chisolm reached for the door that separated Katie’s room from his. “I guess they just want to be as safe as possible,” he said diplomatically.
Katie snorted. “We both know that they’re only doing this because I’m a girl.”
Chisolm shrugged, swinging open the door from Katie’s side. “You’re probably right.”
Katie paused. Chisolm’s directness and honesty surprised her, as was always the case. After a moment, she followed up her thought. “Well, if that’s true, then it’s bullshit for them to do it.”
“Bullshit for who to do it?”
“I don’t know. The brass. Whoever decided.”
“You think it was Saylor?”
Katie thought briefly, then shook her head. “No. He said it came straight from the Patrol Captain. And Tower said that this whole bodyguard routine wasn’t part of his suggestion.”
“I wouldn’t think so.”
Katie squinted at him. “What’s that mean?”
“It means,” Chisolm answered, turning to meet her gaze, “that if I was Tower, I’d want you at home for bait. That is, if all I cared about was catching the Rainy Day Rapist.”
She considered his words. “You think that’s all he cares about?”
“I think that’s what he cares about most,” Chisolm said. “Why else would he have kept you on after the accidental discharge in Riverfront Park and then the assault at Corbin Park?”
“Maybe because he knew I could handle it.”
Chisolm shrugged. “Could be, but I doubt it. I’ve seen Tower’s kind before. He’s not totally hung up on himself like Kahn or Stone, but he’s still pretty self-centered. I don’t think he gave a whole lot of thought to how this was affecting you until after the Rainy Day Rapist grabbed onto you that night over on Mona Street.”
Katie looked up at the ceiling, thinking about what Chisolm had said. She didn’t want to believe it. She wanted to believe that Tower had believed in her as a cop. But she found it difficult to simply discount Chisolm’s view of things.
“So you’re saying Tower’s some kind of an asshole?” she asked.
“No,” Chisolm responded. He checked the bathroom, even going so far as to pull the shower curtain aside. “I’m saying that he’s focused on himself and his case. That’s his role. The captain’s role is something different. He has to take more of a global view.”
Katie sat up and stared at him. “Officer Chisolm,” she said, affecting shock and surprise. “Did you just defend the brass?”
Chisolm chuckled. “Hey, I believe in leadership. If it’s competent, that is. Saylor’s a good leader.”
Katie made a face, agreeing. “True. Not like Hart.”
Chisolm snorted. “Why do you think they shipped that idiot over to Internal Affairs? Hell, that move alone should tell you that the Chief has a pretty good idea what the score is. He’s a good leader, too. And so is Captain Reott.”
Katie shrugged. She had no opinion one way or the other. Generally, she was so removed from the leadership as a line officer working graveyard that she just hoped they would leave her alone to do her job. The only time she saw or heard from them was when someone screwed up, anyway.
“What do you mean by ‘global view’?” she asked.
Chisolm walked to the window and pushed aside the heavy curtain. Katie looked past him into the parking lot. He’d insisted on a second floor room, explaining that it kept the window from being as vulnerable. He gave her a similar explanation when it came to parking his car in the basement sally port and having them leave after work from that location, citing a change in pattern. “I mean, he had to balance the need to catch this prick with your personal safety. He decided that your house was enough bait and that he didn’t want to risk using you.”
“Right,” Katie said, “and would he have made that same decision if it was a male officer?”
“I don’t know,” Chisolm answered, snapping the curtains shut. “I guess it might depend on the officer.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning that most officers, he’d probably do the same thing. Can you imagine the negative press if something were to happen to you, MacLeod? If they decided to use you as a worm on a hook and you got gobbled up? Even if we caught the fish, the fallout would be enough to bring down this Chief and probably the Captain, too.”
“Are you saying this was self-preservation on their part?”
Chisolm sighed. “Hell, every decision has elements of self-preservation. Have you ever arrested a guy for domestic violence on thin probable cause simply because you’re covered if you arrest him and you’re liable if you don’t?”
Katie looked away. “Sure. I suppose. PC is PC, right?”
Chisolm smiled. “Depends on if it is probable cause or probably cause.”
Katie chuckled. “Okay, I see your point. But honestly, do you think they’d have gone the whole nine yards with a bodyguard and everything if you were the target?”
Chisolm’s smile faded into a grimace. “Probably not.”
“Because you’re a man,” Katie said.
“No,” Chisolm answered. “Because I would have politely told the Captain to go run a leg up his ass.”
Katie laughed out loud. “Oh, I’d pay to see that.”
Chisolm shrugged. “When you’ve been here for fifteen or more years, you might know a thing or two about people that gives you a little leverage, MacLeod.”
“Like what?”
“Can’t tell you,” Chisolm said, “otherwise it wouldn’t be worth anything.”
“So this has nothing to do with me being a woman?”
“I’m sure it does,” Chisolm admitted, “but it is what it is.”
“Oh,” Katie said. “A philosopher and a medicine man. Impressive.”
“Probably why you picked me as your bunk mate,” Chisolm said. He pointed at the door. “I’ll be right through there. When I get into my room, I’ll open it from my side. We leave the doors between our rooms open. If you need some privacy, swing the door nearly shut but don’t latch it.”
“Yes, sir,” Katie said, saluting.
Chisolm ignored her and continued. “If there’s a knock on your door, you don’t answer it. You come across into my room and we’ll decide how to deal with it from there. Same thing with the phone. Don’t answer it. Okay?”
“Okay,” Katie said, firing another salute at him.
Chisolm gave her a gentle smile
, then good-naturedly returned her salute. “Hey,” he said. “I’m working for you here.” He pointed to the door between their rooms. “I’ll be right in there,” he added, then turned to go.
“Tom?” Katie asked.
Chisolm turned. “Yeah?”
“Thanks,” she said, her tone warm and full of gratitude. “I mean it.”
“I know,” Chisolm replied. “I know.”
0916 hours
He cruised along Rowan, his eyes darting down every alley and into every car. He knew he had to be aware. Now that he’d tipped his hands, he figured the cops would be all over the bitch’s house. Still, he had to know. He had to see.
Besides, even if they saw him, even if they stopped him, what would they have? He’d used a condom every time, leaving behind no evidence for them. Most of the stupid bitches hadn’t fought back at all, and those that had raised some defense hadn’t caused him any serious injury. If they were vigilant and somehow spotted him, it wouldn’t matter. They had nothing to tie him to the rapes.
He even had his alibi worked out. His outgoing mail lay on the seat beside him. Just over on Division was a post office. If they stopped him, he’d just say he was looking for the back entrance to the post office in order to avoid traffic. They’d see the stamped, unsent letters on his passenger seat and that would convince them.
Cops, he had decided, were not that bright. They only caught on to the most obvious of facts.
When he turned onto Calispel, the first thing he noticed was that the Jeep was missing. He wondered if it were still at the police station or if she’d driven elsewhere. Perhaps tomorrow, he’d have to stake out the station and see.
The second thing he noticed was the gray four-door Caprice parked a half block from the bitch’s brick house. Two clearly male figures sat inside.
Cops.
Jesus, he thought. Could they be more obvious?
He fixed his gaze straight ahead, then made a point to feign that he was fiddling with the radio as he rolled up the street at just under the speed limit. He used his peripheral vision to check the two of them out as he passed the gray car. They appeared to be deeply involved in a conversation.
