Enforcing the Paw

by Diane Kelly

  The one who had spoken with me earlier called out to the man. “She got our cars, too!”

  There was a third car in the mix? Great. I hadn’t noticed the vehicle parked to the left; my focus had been on the suspect.

  The male voice came again. “At least your tires weren’t slashed, too!”

  Slashed tires? The damage must have been more extensive than I’d realized at first glance.

  A second later, a man stepped up next to the women. Ryan. His car had been keyed, too? And his tires cut?

  His head jerked back in surprise. “Officer Luz?”

  A brown-haired girl in a sexy pink satin slip dress stepped up next to him and put a hand on his shoulder. “You know this cop, Ryan?”

  Uh-oh.

  Was the woman at my feet Danielle, the one I’d spoken with after the unknown blonde had shown up at Ryan’s place with the gift and balloons and tried to sweet-talk her way in? Had she lied to me about her involvement? Had she realized he’d been on a date with another girl tonight and come here seeking revenge in a Carrie Underwood “Before He Cheats” kind of way?

  I glanced down at the woman, whose face was still hidden under the curtain of blond hair. I couldn’t tell if it was Danielle. But there was one way to find out.

  I crouched down near her head. “Ma’am, in just a moment I’m going to ask these men to release you. When they do, you need to roll over onto your back and keep your hands over your head. Understand me? Any funny business and you’ll get bit.”

  Brigit barked again. RRUF!

  The woman didn’t speak, but her head moved up and down as she nodded in agreement.

  I motioned for the men to release the woman. When they did, she continued to lie facedown for a moment or two, but finally, and slowly, rolled over onto her back.

  Adriana.

  Ryan’s mouth gaped. “You bitch!”

  When he stormed forward, I held up a hand. “Touch her and you’re in trouble, too.”

  He threw his hands in the air. “When will you get it, Officer Luz? She’s the problem! She’s always been the problem! All I’ve done is try to protect myself!”

  His date gave him a confused, sideways glance. “What’s going on?”

  He cast her an annoyed glance. “I’ll fill you in later. There’s too much to tell.”

  I wondered what had happened with Ryan and Danielle. Had she called things off? It seemed likely. She hadn’t seemed that into him.

  Turning my attention back to Adriana, I instructed her to sit up and put her hands behind her. “Wrists together. Now.”

  Her shoulders shook with sobs, but she did as she was told. I slid the cuffs onto her wrists and told her to remain sitting. Pushing the button on my shoulder-mounted radio, I said, “Transport needed at Stage West Theater. Single suspect.”

  Ryan ranted, raved, and paced until Summer and Derek arrived a few minutes later. I gave them the scoop.

  “Oh, honey,” Summer said to Adriana, shaking her head. “No man is worth all this trouble.”

  Derek yanked Adriana to her feet and stowed her in the back of their cruiser. Considering his work done, he slid back into the passenger seat, grabbed an enormous fountain drink from the cup holder, and sucked on the straw. Slurrrrp!

  While Adriana hung her head in the back of Summer’s squad car, Summer and I took a few minutes to interview the witnesses and victims, assess the damage, and take photos. Ryan’s Camaro bore the brunt of Adriana’s knife assault. It looked as if it had been attacked by a pride of angry lions. Numerous deep gouges ran the length of the side, with dozens of shorter, shallower vertical scratches along the way. All four tires had been cut and rested in deflated rubber puddles under his car. While the two adjacent cars on the right had also been damaged, it seemed clear to me that Ryan’s car was the real target and Adriana had only scratched the other cars to make the attack seem random and keep suspicion off herself. She obviously hadn’t expected to be caught in the act. So much for that, huh?

  When we finished, I told the group of victims that I’d input my police report immediately so that they could have it available for insurance purposes as soon as possible.

  The two couples thanked me, shook my hand, and drove away.

  Ryan, however, looked as if he was ready to explode. “That bitch is going to kill me one day! I told you as much! But nooo! You didn’t think she was dangerous.” He scoffed before leaning into my face and giving me a pointed look. “What do you think now?”

  What did I think now? I thought that it was damn hard to read some people. I thought that Adriana had been immensely stupid to do what she did. But most of all, I thought that I needed a damn vacation.

  * * *

  An hour and a half later, Detective Bustamente and I were seated in a conference room across from Adriana, who was still shackled but with her hands in front of her now.

  “I want you to look me in the eye and tell me the truth, Adriana,” I said. “Who was behind each of the events? Was it you?”

  “No!” she cried. “You have to believe me!”

  Bustamente, who was always the epitome of calm, raised his hands from the table. “Why? Why should we believe you? You just did something very impetuous tonight and violated the law. Give us a reason to think you’re telling us the truth.”

  Her voice was shrill and shaky. “Because I am!”

  “You’re going to have to do better than that,” he said. “Help us understand. What were you thinking tonight?”

  She paused for a few beats, her chest heaving, before she took a couple of deep breaths and spoke. “I know I shouldn’t have done what I did,” she said. “But I just couldn’t take it anymore. The pressure, the constant worry. It was too much. I guess I … snapped.”

  “You got the protective order against him,” I said. “I took away his gun. You had the advantage now.”

  “What advantage?” she cried. “After you took away his gun that first time he just went out and bought another. He’s probably bought another one by now!”

  Bustamente and I exchanged glances. She could very well be right. The protective order against Ryan was in the system and a gun seller required to run a background check should find it and refuse the sale. Unfortunately, there were myriad ways to work around the regulations. No background checks were required on gun sales between private citizens, for instance. Ryan could have attended any of the dozen or so gun shows being constantly held in the state. Heck, the Will Rogers Center hosted gun shows on a regular basis, some big, some small. One of the oddest sights I’d ever seen was when the center was simultaneously hosting a gun show and a ballet recital. Little girls in pink tutus were dancing and leaping their way through the parking lot while hunters and gun enthusiasts dressed in camouflage pulled rifles and pistols and shotguns out of their trunks.

  Adriana released a shuddering breath. “That car means more to Ryan than anything else. I wanted to hit him where it hurts. Just once. Before the inevitable happens.”

  “What’s ‘the inevitable’?” I asked.

  She looked up and fully met my gaze for the first time ever. “Ryan killing me.”

  THIRTY-NINE

  PILLOW TALK

  Brigit

  When Brigit and Megan returned home after their all-night shift, the dog was more than ready for a nice snooze. It seemed Megan, though, was not. Once again she tossed and turned in the bed, making it impossible for Brigit to rest.

  But Brigit wasn’t in the mood to go sleep on the sofa like she had last time. The couch was comfy enough, but it wasn’t as soft and warm as the bed. Besides, the sofa was in the living room at the front of the house, and Brigit’s sleep would be distracted by the noise from outside. Cars driving by on the street. Delivery trucks. People walking by on the sidewalk. The mailman.

  No, it was Megan’s turn to sleep on the sofa.

  The next time her partner shook her awake, Brigit put all four of her paws on Megan’s back and pushed as hard as she could. Get out of the bed.
<
br />   Megan cut Brigit an irritated look over her shoulder. “You’re not the boss, you know.”

  While Brigit wasn’t entirely sure of the meaning of Megan’s words, the tone was clear. Still, so long as Megan left the bed Brigit didn’t much care if her partner was angry with her. She wanted some shut-eye. She stretched her legs out and pushed again.

  Finally, Megan took the hint. With a sharp breath, she threw back the covers, climbed out of bed, and marched out of the room.

  Brigit took advantage of the space by climbing on top of the covers and using her front paws to scrunch them up under her for maximum fluffiness and comfort. When she got the sheets and spread just right, she flopped back down on them and settled her head on the pillow.

  Aaahhhh …

  FORTY

  GIVE-AND-TAKE

  Adriana

  Relationships were about give-and-take.

  She had given Ryan so much.

  Her time.

  Her affection.

  Her love.

  All Ryan had done was take, take, take, and in return he’d given her nothing but shit.

  Well, those days were over now. And soon, his days would be over.

  FORTY-ONE

  A MATCH MADE IN HELL

  Megan

  I was back on nights in mid-September. After scratching up the cars and slashing Ryan’s tires, Adriana had been charged with felony criminal mischief and violating the protective order Ryan had against her. But given that she had no prior record and that it appeared Ryan’s actions might have led to her “losing it,” the prosecutor went easy on her and worked out a plea deal under which she pled guilty to a misdemeanor and agreed to perform twenty hours of community service at a soup kitchen. I hoped they’d keep her away from the knives.

  There was no moon tonight and an abundance of clouds that blocked out all starlight. The sky and earth were exceptionally opaque, as if trying to hide their darkest secrets. Forest Park was nearly invisible in the blackness.

  Brigit seemed to sense the odd, ominous quality of the night, too. I’d left the windows down so she could get some fresh air, and she stood at the mesh, sniffing the breeze, her furry brow furrowed as if she smelled trouble coming our way.

  As I drove out of the park and onto the dimly lit streets, I wondered if, or when, Ryan’s and Adriana’s prophecies might come true and one of them would kill the other. But who would be the killer and who would end up in a body bag? I still had no idea.

  Despite Detective Bustamente’s assurances that I’d done all I could, that some cases would always go unsolved, that many questions would go forever unanswered, I had a difficult time accepting what felt like a failure to me. I’d let someone be victimized, let another get away with it. I still wasn’t sure who was the real victim and who was the real perpetrator where Adriana and Ryan were concerned.

  And it’s eating me alive.

  A soft thunk sounded as Brigit flopped down onto the platform of her enclosure to chew on a toy. It dawned on me that for both of us, work time and playtime had essentially melded into one. She often got to nap or play while working, and I often spent what should be my personal free time mulling over pending investigations.

  We rolled up Hulen, approaching Ryan’s apartment complex. While nothing had happened between him or Adriana in a few weeks now, I turned in out of habit. As I circled through the shadowy lot, white reverse lights illuminated on his Camaro across the way. Looked like he was going somewhere. Odd, given that it was midweek and after two A.M.

  Had he put another GPS device on Adriana’s car or tracked her in some other way? Was she having another migraine, maybe heading to the pharmacy for more headache medicine? Or was he going to his brother and sister-in-law’s house to help them with Toby? Maybe something had happened, an emergency, and they needed an immediate sitter to watch the tyke. I had no idea what was going on. I could only surmise that, given that Ryan was in his Camaro rather than his truck, it seemed unlikely he was going to help with some type of urgent communications outage.

  I decided to follow him. If he was the stalker, maybe I’d finally catch him in the act and get that closure I so desperately sought. If he wasn’t, maybe I’d catch him going to the convenience store for an emergency roll of toilet paper or condoms. For all I knew he had Danielle up in his apartment, or maybe the brown-haired girl from the theater.

  He turned out of the parking lot and I followed several seconds behind him, leaving enough space between us that it would be difficult for him to discern that the vehicle behind him was a police cruiser.

  I eyed my partner in the rearview mirror. “What do you think he’s up to, Brig?”

  She wagged her tail in response, but continued to gnaw the nylon bone I’d bought her a few weeks ago. She found the toy more interesting than speculating on Ryan’s destination and motive for this late-night excursion.

  I followed him as he turned right at a red light. Hmm. He was headed in the general direction of Adriana’s place, but we were still too far away for me to say for certain that’s where he was going. There were lots of places he could stop between here and there, lots of places where he might turn and take a freeway instead of the surface streets.

  He sped up, exceeding the speed limit by at least fifteen miles per hour. Still, I was more interested in where he was going than in giving him a ticket. If I could finally catch him doing something big and illegal I could put this frustrating investigation to rest.

  A couple minutes, three more turns, and one blatant failure to stop for a stop sign later and I knew without a doubt he was headed to Adriana’s house. How? Because he’d careened onto her street and I could see his red brake lights illuminating up ahead and hear the screech as his car skidded to a stop in front of her house.

  What the hell was he doing here? Not only did he have a protective order against this woman, but she had one against him, too. He’d also claimed to be afraid Adriana would kill him. Had that been bullshit? Both I and Detective Bustamente had warned him against having any interactions with her. Dammit! Why don’t people do what judges and cops and common sense tell them to?!?

  I punched the gas, but Ryan was faster. He bolted from his car and stormed up the steps. I caught a glimpse of Adriana in a short white nightgown before she closed the door behind him.

  What the hell just happened?

  Are they reconciling, after all the shit one of them has put the other through?

  It wouldn’t be the first time a couple had been at each other’s throats one instant and bumping uglies the next. It wouldn’t be the last time, either.

  I hopped out of my car and yanked open the door to Brigit’s enclosure, not even taking the time to shut it before giving her the order to stay by my side. The two of us stormed up to the porch. As I approached, my nose caught the acrid scent of petroleum. Brigit scented it, too, her black nose twitching in the air. Holy shit! Is that gasoline?

  My mind barely had time to form the thought, when WHOOSH!

  I heard the sound of the fire igniting the same instant I saw the flames light up through a gap in the curtains on the front window. Instinctively, I grabbed the door handle but it wouldn’t turn. It was locked. I pounded on the door with both fists. “Adriana! Ryan!”

  There was no answer.

  I pressed the button on my shoulder-mounted radio. “We need a fire truck immediately!” I screamed into the mic, following with Adriana’s address. “There’s a fire in the house and two people inside! It smells like gasoline!”

  The dispatcher’s voice came back as I ran down the steps. “Fire and ambulance units are on the way.”

  I ran to the window and tried to see inside. All I could see were red-hot flames. No doubt they were licking at those perfectly arranged bookshelves, the paper providing perfect kindling for the fire.

  The smell of gasoline was strong by the window, too. Had Adriana set this fire? Or had Ryan poured gasoline out here earlier, then concocted some ploy to convince her to let him into the hou
se so he could burn it down?

  I banged my fists on the window. “Adriana! Ryan!”

  There was no response. I wasn’t sure what to do. Despite everything that had happened, I didn’t want either of them to get injured or die. But I didn’t want me or Brigit to get injured or die, either. And my partner and I weren’t equipped to fight a fire.

  Or were we?

  I grabbed the closest oleander bush and wrangled it aside, my eyes desperately seeking a faucet and hose.

  Nothing.

  I grabbed the second bush and pushed the limbs aside so I could see. There was a faucet but no hose.

  Dammit!

  I ran to the side gate and bolted through it, Brigit loping after me. There had to be a second faucet back here somewhere, right? And a hose? Sure! Adriana must use them to water her garden, right?

  As Brigit and I ran around the back corner I came face-to-face with Adriana. The clouds broke and a glint of starlight reflected off the Cuisinart cradled in her arms just before momentum carried me forward to collide with her. Our skulls met with a smack! The impact knocked her back on her ass on her patio, and the Cuisinart flew out of her arms, smashing into a dozen pieces on the patio. What looked like sparklers flared at the edges of my vision and I fell to my knees on the concrete. Thump. Damn, that hurt!

  It took only a moment for our heads to clear and, when they did, Adriana looked at me, her eyes wild with surprise. “What are you doing here?”

  Really? That’s how a person reacts when their house is up in flames?

  No, I realized a moment later. It’s not.

  I knew with absolute certainty then that Adriana had set this fire and that she’d lured Ryan to her house to kill him. My conclusion must have been written on my face because the next thing she did was reach out with a bright pink stun gun. Finally! Some color! Before I could slap her arm away she gave me a solid zzzap!

  The jolt seared me to my very core. I slumped over, unable to control a single muscle, falling sideways onto the concrete, my cheekbone hitting the cement with a teeth-rattling smack! My mind screamed to Brigit to watch out, but I couldn’t make my mouth cooperate. But while my body wouldn’t work, my mind did. If that woman hurts Brigit, I will kill her in the most painful way possible. I’ll take my baton and shove it down her throat until it comes out that tight little ass of hers.