Cold Blooded

by Anne Patrick

  "A couple of years ago, so I'm good."

  "If she was a street kid, you should be tested for Hepatitis."

  Gwen sighed. "This call just keeps getting better and better. I'm gonna kill Nick tomorrow."

  "I know your pride might be injured, but don’t you think you were a little rough on those officers?"

  "That girl is the one from the surveillance tapes. According to the ATM footage I watched earlier, she may have gotten a good look at our suspect."

  "Was that her scarf you put in your SUV?"

  "Yes. I'm hoping CSU can give me something that'll lead me to her. I'm pretty sure it's cashmere. Too high-end for your typical street kid, but then she most likely stole it."

  "You think she can ID your guy?"

  "I don't know. I didn't have much of an opportunity to question her." Gwen started toward the woman still talking to the officer.

  The lieutenant snagged her arm. "I want you to go to the hospital and have that finger checked."

  "As soon as I talk to the vic."

  "I'll wrap things up here and make sure all the paperwork is waiting on your desk in the morning." He walked off, leaving no room for further discussion.

  Gwen expelled a deep breath, and walked over to where the two officers stood. "Hey, guys. I'm sorry I went off on you. I guess I was a little worked up."

  "Don't worry about it, Detective. We're sorry we didn't get more for you to go on."

  "Well, you could still help me out a lot if you guys could sit down with a sketch artist and come up with a composite of the girl. I really need to find her. Turns out she's a witness in another case I'm working on."

  "Sure, we can do that."

  "Thanks, guys."

  *****

  Please let me go.

  Gwen sprang up in bed. The nightmare dissipated but the memory of the girl's haunting blue eyes stuck with her. The pain, the mistrust, the fear, they all reminded Gwen of her own childhood. A father taken from her way too soon, and a mother who cared more about shooting drugs into her arm than putting food on the table for her kid. That bleak existence eventually led to living in the streets. Gwen tossed back the covers and stood. Lizzie meowed her protest from the foot of the bed. "Sorry, sweetie. Go back to sleep." Gwen walked barefoot into the kitchen and warmed a cup of milk in the microwave. The clock above the wall read three-thirty.

  She moved to the open curtains in the living room and stared out at the city lights. Wherever the young girl was, Gwen hoped she was safe. Glancing down at the bandaged finger, she grinned. The girl was a scrapper. Just like Gwen had been. When you lived on the streets, you had to be. You did what you had to just to survive. You hide the fact you're a girl so the perverts will leave you alone. You stick with the older generation who'll teach you how to stay alive and will look out for you. You depend on the kindness of strangers and, if you have to, you steal. It was a hard life, but it beat living in foster care. At least that was the case before Margret and Anthony Greer came into Gwen's life. Had it not been for the Greer family, Gwen figured she probably wouldn't be here now.

  Gwen took another drink of milk, waiting for the chill to dissipate so she could go back to sleep. She had a long day ahead of her, providing CSU could come up with something from the scarf. She had dropped it off after she left the hospital, hoping to have the results sooner. A promise to be moved to the head of the line by CSI Siequist would cost Gwen a batch of her famous brownies, but if he found something useful, it would be well worth the dreaded task of baking.

  Even if Gwen did locate the girl and she had seen something that could help them, it was unlikely the kid would cooperate. The homeless were naturally untrusting when it came to the police. Most had little empathy when it came to street people. The majority of cops didn't care about them or how they ended up in their situation. The stories often varied. Some chose the lifestyle; others had no choice because of circumstances beyond their control.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Gwen was ten minutes late picking up Kris for work. She climbed into the SUV and shot Gwen an annoyed look. "Sorry. I hit the snooze button one too many times this morning."

  "What'd you do to your finger?" Kris laughed. "Let me guess, your cat bit you."

  Gwen mocked her laughter. "No. I earned that coming up with a new lead. You were right about our potential witness being a female." Gwen told her the whole story as she drove to the station, beginning with the ATM video and ending with dropping off the scarf with CSI Siequist.

  "I can't believe she bit you. It's a wonder you didn't bite her back."

  "I might have if there hadn't been a fence between us."

  "Did you have to get stitches?"

  "No. She broke the skin but the ER nurse just cleaned it up and put antibiotic cream on it. I wouldn't have gone but the lieutenant insisted I be tested for Hepatitis and HIV. Should get the results next week."

  "You're being awfully caviler about it."

  "Believe me, the way she ran, no way was she a drug user."

  "There are other ways to—"

  "I know, Kris. I'm trying not to think about it."

  "Why was Lieutenant McKean on the scene?"

  Gwen shrugged. She hadn't thought to ask. "Maybe he heard the call on his way home."

  At the station, Gwen parked her SUV and they took the elevator to the third floor. "Will you sign us in? I want to drop the ATM footage off at CSU and check to see if Siequist found anything useful with the scarf. Oh, and will you type up a new bulletin on the robberies and have it sent statewide."

  "Got it. See you in a bit."

  Gwen spotted Brent Siequist bent over a microscope and tapped against the glass wall. He glanced up then motioned for her to come in. The moment she pushed through the double doors and saw the frown on his face she knew it was bad news. "You didn't get anything."

  "I got plenty, but nothing so unique it would lead you to the girl's whereabouts. Animal hair, motor oil, and various cotton and wool fibers."

  "Is it cashmere?"

  "A hundred percent. This particular brand retails between sixty and a hundred bucks. I also found residue of Chloe perfume, a little pricy depending on where you buy it."

  "What about ballistics on the bullets that killed Mrs Gyman?"

  "No matches."

  "You're full of bad news."

  "Sorry." He handed her the plastic bag with the scarf. "Does this mean I don't get my brownies?"

  "No, you still get them." Gwen knew it would be a difficult task to find the girl now, even with a composite. The teenager would be more cautious now that she knew the cops were after her. "I've got another favor to ask, though." She handed him the disc. "Can you clean this up for me? Either I or Lieutenant McKean will drop off another one later."

  "Same case."

  "Yeah. Just whenever you can get to them."

  "Give us a few days."

  "Thanks, Siequist. I'll bring you your brownies Friday."

  Gwen left the lab and headed to the squad room. Kris met her half way. "The lieutenant sent me to find you. What'd you do to make Davenport mad?"

  "Nothing that I know of…at least not lately. Why?"

  "She's in his office." Kris glanced down at the baggie. "Any luck with the scarf?"

  "No." Gwen pushed through the double glass doors and looked toward Ian's office. Lieutenant Denise Davenport stood inches from his desk with her arms folded. She didn't appear happy.

  Kris, Denise, and Gwen had worked patrol together. Instead of becoming a detective, Davenport stayed with patrol and went for her sergeant's stripes. She'd been on an ego trip ever since.

  Gwen laid her purse and the baggie on her desk and went to the office. Before she could knock, Ian motioned for her to come in. She stepped in and closed the door. "You wanted to see me, sir?"

  "Yes. Lieutenant Davenport has come to me with a grievance concerning you."

  "Oh yeah." She turned and met the woman's glare. Her short black hair, which was most likely dyed, made her appear a
couple of years younger than her real age of thirty-three. "About what?"

  "Officers Newport and Duncan informed me this morning that you requested they sit with a sketch artist for a composite of last night's suspect."

  "That's correct. The girl is also a possible witness to the liquor store robberies I'm working."

  "You aren't a one-woman show here, Jamison. There are proper channels you need to go through. You can't just go around giving orders to my officers."

  "Since I was the detective called out to the scene, I believe it was well within my power to make that request. But if it will get my composite faster, I'll appease you." Gwen looked at her boss. "Sir, could you please request Lieutenant Davenport to allow Officers Newport and Duncan to sit with a sketch artist so we can distribute a composite of last night's attempted strong-arm robbery suspect."

  "I'll see what I can do, Detective."

  "Was there anything else, sir?"

  "No, you can go."

  "Thank you, sir."

  "Real funny, Jamison," the woman spat as Gwen left the office.

  Gwen quietly laughed as she placed her purse and the scarf in her desk and locked it. She picked up the file that had been added to her open-file basket and saw it was from last night. Ian's door opened and Davenport came out. "Have a good day, Lieutenant."

  "One of these days that mouth of yours is going to get you fired, Jamison."

  "Yes, ma'am, it probably will."

  The woman mumbled something under her breath and left the squad room.

  Gwen looked through the opened door of the lieutenant's office and caught him smiling at her. He then shifted his gaze to a small stack of paperwork on his desk. Didn't look like today would be that day.

  "If you ever turn up dead from unnatural causes, Jamison, we'll know where to look," Nick teased.

  "Oh, I'm sure there would be a long list of suspects." Gwen settled in her chair and scanned over the reports from Officers Newport and Duncan. Alice Stenson, age sixty-seven, was on her way to the corner market when the teenager, who later identified herself as Tina McAfee, ran up behind Mrs. Stenson and attempted to take her purse. Mrs. Stenson struggled with the girl over the purse. Then an unknown male and two women apprehended the teenager and held her until police arrived on the scene.

  The phone in Ian's office rang. A few seconds later he came out of his office, "Homicide on Delaware Street. Who—"

  "I'll take it, sir," Kris spoke up.

  Ian shook his head. "I need you on the liquor store robberies with Jamison. Detective Chavez why don't you take it?"

  "Yes, sir." Ron leaped from his chair and grabbed the paper from Ian's hand. Ian then disappeared back into his office.

  Gwen looked over her shoulder. "Since when do you volunteer to take a homicide?"

  "Since my gut told me what you have planned for us today. I'm still dehydrated from yesterday's outing."

  "The girl is the closest thing we have to a lead, Kris. I promise we'll only spend a couple of hours looking for her, then we can talk to the witnesses from last night."

  "I heard you had yourself an interesting night," Nick glanced up from his computer.

  "Yes, and it's all you're fault."

  He looked at her finger. "You want me to kiss it and make it better?"

  "I have something you can kiss, Nick, and it's not my finger." Gwen stuck the file underneath her arm and stood.

  Nick laughed. "Well I do appreciate you switching with me. You know what they say about redheads, don't you?"

  "I don't want to know. If she was stupid enough to go out with you, I'm sure she regrets it today."

  "You're just jealous."

  "Yeah. You break my heart, Nick." Gwen pulled Kris up from her chair. "Come on, I'll buy you an energy drink on the way."

  "Be safe, ladies," Nick hollered after them.

  *****

  Ian glanced up from his paperwork as detectives Jamison and Todd went out the doors. He'd heard the banter between Jamison and Harris and admired the fact that she could dish it out as well as take it. He suspected that was only one of the reasons she was so popular with her co-workers. Well everyone except Lieutenant Davenport. There was no love lost there. He wondered what brought on the animosity between them. Professional jealousy maybe, more so on Davenport's part than Jamison's, it seemed. Ian thought she handled herself very well with the lieutenant. He had even backed her up after she left, telling Davenport that Detective Jamison was correct in the fact that she acted completely within her boundaries as the lead investigator on the scene. No doubt he'd be on the woman's bad side now.

  He reflected back on last night. The call had come in just as he was leaving the station. Thinking it was an armed robbery; Ian suspected it could be the same guy in the liquor store heists. When he arrived at the scene and saw Jamison's SUV and then learned she was in foot pursuit of the suspect, he had every intention to join the chase until one of the officers assured him that the suspect wasn't armed. Since he had already seen Jamison in action, Ian knew she could handle bringing down a perp on her own. She seemed to have a dangerous habit of not waiting for backup, which was the reason he hadn't given Detective Todd the earlier call. After seeing the store's footage of Mrs. Gyman's murder, he didn't want either of them working the case alone.

  Under normal circumstances, he would have no qualms trusting a female detective to handle a robbery/homicide. But judging from what he saw on that tape, their suspect was far more dangerous than the typical thief or murderer. They were looking for a cold-blooded killer.

  A knock sounded on the doorjamb and Nick stuck his head in. "Got a minute, sir?"

  "Come on in, Detective."

  "Some of us usually get together at Rafferty's on Wednesdays, after work, for dinner and drinks and I thought maybe you'd like to join us."

  "There won't be any pole climbing involved, will there?"

  Nick smiled. "No, sir. We mainly just unwind. Sometimes we throw around ideas to help on each other's cases."

  "And you do this every week?"

  "Yeah, sometimes on Friday's. Depending on everyone's schedules."

  It sounded therapeutic, and a good way to get to know his team. "I'll try to make it."

  *****

  Gwen and Kris spent most of the morning driving around looking for the girl. All they had to go on was Gwen's and the officer's physical description. Five-two, hundred-five to hundred-ten pounds, brown hair, and blue eyes. If Gwen hadn't taken the white scarf from her last night, she would have been easier to spot. She recalled how hard the teenager had fought to retrieve the scarf and what Siequist had told her about it. Could be that the scarf was part of the girl's past, a Christmas or birthday gift maybe? Gwen made a mental note to have the scarf dry-cleaned. When she found the girl, Gwen could use it as leverage to gain the girl's trust.

  "What happened to only spending a couple of hours looking for this kid?" Kris reached forward and flipped the middle air conditioning vents toward her. "We're wasting our time, Gwen."

  "You're right. We'll have a better chance of finding her once we have a sketch."

  "Good luck with that. If Davenport has her way, it'll probably be a month before you get one. Why didn't you just sit with the sketch artist? You were face to face with her, weren't you?"

  "The lighting wasn't as good as on the street and it takes too long."

  "Yeah and we all know how impatient you are."

  Gwen shot her friend a smile. "Let's go talk to the witnesses. Look there in the file and give me an address."

  "And bossy." Kris picked up the file from in between the seat and console. "211 North Ash. Bonnie Abrams."

  Twenty minutes later, they sat in the quaint living room of Ms. Abrams' home. "We appreciate you taking the time to see us," Gwen told the pretty brunette who looked to be in her mid-thirties. "I know you gave your statement last night to Officers Newman and Duncan, but if you wouldn't mind, we would like to go over it with you."

  "Sure. Can I get you someth
ing to drink? Tea maybe?"

  "We're good," Kris declined. "Thank you."

  "According to your statement, you and your friend…" Gwen checked her notes, "…Cynthia Olsten were on your way to your car when you saw the suspect try to snatch Mrs. Stenson's purse."

  "That's right. I heard the old lady screaming, and when we saw her and the girl fighting over the purse, we ran to help. Then this guy came running across the street and he helped hold the girl while Cynthia called 9-1-1."

  "Do you know who the man was?" Kris asked.

  "No. I'd never seen him before. I think he came out of the Chinese restaurant. The whole time we were holding the girl, she fought with us trying to get away. Once the cops arrived, though, she stopped struggling. She was like a completely different person."

  Newman and Duncan still should have placed her in cuffs immediately. "Other than no longer struggling, what else struck you as different about the suspect?"

  "Her whole demeanor changed. She went from being combative and angry to timid as a mouse. Honestly, the kid seemed scared to death. When she spoke, you could barely hear her."

  Gwen figured that was just an act. The girl she came face to face with through that chain-link fence was anything but timid. "Had you ever seen the suspect before?"

  "I didn't think so last night, but I've been sort of mulling it over, and I believe I have. I just don't remember where."

  "In that same area or somewhere else?"

  "I really don't know. I mean I can't remember. Believe me, I've tried."

  "All right." Gwen gave the woman one of her cards. "If you do happen to recall where you've seen her before, please give me a call."

  "Of course."

  Gwen and Kris then went and spoke to Cynthia Olsten. She basically told them the same thing as Ms. Abrams, and she swore she had never seen the girl or the man before. Mrs. Stenson was of no help either, aside from showing them her bruises and being adamant about pressing charges and getting the hoodlum off the streets.

  It was shortly after five when they signed out for the day. The squad room was empty but the lieutenant was still in his office. Gwen grabbed her purse from her desk while Kris held the door open for her.