by Gerri Hill
"Don't forget about Rudy Bobby," Casey said. "Our homeless guy was killed with the same murder weapon as our girls."
"And the matching fiber," Leslie reminded them.
"Right. There was a fiber found on Dana Burrows," Malone said. "It matched the blanket covering the homeless guy."
"Tox on Rudy Bobby showed cocaine. Something that John said," Casey said, glancing at Sikes. "Not you. The other John. He said Patrick gives him money. And he said Patrick is out and about at night, not during the day. Piece that together with the fact that the others on the street are afraid of Patrick--"
"Drug dealer?"
"I wouldn't say dealer. I'm guessing more of a carrier. And I'd bet Rudy Bobby stole some from Patrick and that got him killed. Maybe Rudy Bobby was following him around, saw stuff he shouldn't. Maybe he followed him to the apartment, saw the murder, went inside--"
"Unknowingly left a fiber," Leslie said.
"Or maybe he saw the murder and blackmailed Patrick, trading his silence for cocaine," Sikes suggested.
Casey nodded. "Might be more plausible than stealing it, you're right."
"I still don't get the dress thing," Malone said. He looked at Tucker. "You said a quirk of his, but not the norm. What are your thoughts?"
"I think, like Tori said, it's some sort of alibi. I wouldn't be surprised if he's in the dress when he kills his victims. We've all been wondering how he gets inside their apartments. Dressed as a woman, a young woman at that, would probably be fairly easy to get them to open their doors." She looked at Casey. "If anyone spots him coming or going, they've spotted a woman."
"And maybe getting John to wear the dress occasionally allows Patrick to be on the streets during the day posing as John. I got the impression from John that Patrick is rarely out and about during the day. So on the occasions when he does want--or need--to be out, he gets John to wear the dress, and Patrick morphs into John, leaving the real Patrick still under cover."
Tori stared at her, shaking her head. "Jesus Christ, O'Connor, I think you've taken a few too many psychology classes. He morphs into John? You don't think he's just a punk who gets off dressing like women?"
"I think Casey's right," Leslie said. "It goes beyond playing dress-up. And I know we've never met Patrick, don't even know what he looks like, but I would think, as John says, they are quite opposite. I think he's very intelligent, whereas John is not. I would assume he is calculating, meticulous. John is childlike, simple, and therefore easily manipulated. I think the dress is just part of the game. I don't believe he does it for any emotional reasons."
Malone leaned back in his chair, slowly rubbing his bald head, watching them. He met Tori's eyes and raised his eyebrows. She shrugged.
"Captain wants us to bring CIU in, along with a profiler," he said. "Personally, I hate when CIU gets involved." He glanced quickly at Tori again. "Sorry. No offense to Sam."
Tori smiled. "I feel exactly the same way, Lieutenant."
"Good. Then let's try to wrap this up. Twenty-four hour detail. You decide how you break it up. No one goes out alone," he said, casting a look at Casey. "If we need help, I can try to pull someone from another squad. I'd suggest Donaldson and Walker, but--"
"We can manage, Lieutenant," Tori said quickly. "Like you said, let's try to wrap this up."
"Very well. But I want you to keep me posted. I've got a meeting with Hagen over at Narcotics, want to see if maybe this Patrick guy is on their radar."
"Yes, sir."
"I mean it. Let me know what you get. The captain wants an update by the end of the day. I'm guessing we have a couple more days before CIU and a profiler come calling."
"Well, Leslie and I are going to head over to the shelter," Casey said. "We want to talk to Maria again. She knows John. She may not know Patrick, but maybe she knows Patty."
"Looks like Sikes and I get the first shift then," Tori said as she stood. She pointed at Casey and Leslie. "You two need to get some rest this afternoon if you're taking the night shift."
"An afternoon nap?"
"Yeah, O'Connor, you're going to wish you had a nap when two a.m. rolls around and you're cruising the streets."
"Okay. So we'll switch out at what? Seven? Eight?"
"Let's say eight. And take a radio in case we need dispatch."
"Ten-four," Casey said with a grin.
Tori walked out with Casey, nudging her shoulder. "So? You have a good weekend?" she asked quietly. She was surprised at the slight blush that colored Casey's face.
"Yeah. Good," she said. "You?"
"Uh-huh. Sam hauled me around looking at houses."
"Sorry I missed that."
"Yeah. I was hoping you'd call me and persuade me to go to the lake yesterday."
"Yeah, well, I had...you know, laundry and stuff to catch up on."
Tori laughed. "You're so damn cute, O'Connor."
"What the hell does that mean?"
"That means I'm a detective, hotshot."
Casey arched an eyebrow.
"She's not wearing her ring."
Casey blushed again. "Look, please don't say anything," she whispered, then took a step back as Leslie walked over.
"I'm ready if you are."
"Yeah, sure. All ready." She walked away, then turned back. "See you at eight, Hunter."
Tori watched them go, smiling.
"What's up with you?" Sikes asked.
"Nothing."
"Did you notice Tucker didn't have her ring on?"
Tori laughed. "Oh, yeah. I noticed."
"What's up with that?"
"What would be your guess, Sikes?"
Chapter Thirty-Four
As they made their way up the sidewalk to the shelter entrance, Leslie grabbed her arm and stopped her.
"Casey, can we talk for a second?"
Casey turned around, nodding. "Sure. What? You want to do the questioning? That's fine. Maria--"
"No. No, that's not it." Leslie pulled her to the side. "Why are we doing this?"
"Doing what?"
"Casey, are you...I don't know...nervous because of what happened over the weekend?"
Casey laughed and realized it did sound nervous. "I may be a little, yeah. I didn't think it showed."
Leslie smiled slightly. "We had such a pleasant ride over here, talking about such diverse topics as the weather and our lingering summer temperatures. But I'm wondering why we're avoiding--and totally ignoring--the fact that we, well, that we spent the weekend together. Naked."
Casey ran her hand through her hair, another nervous gesture, so she plunged it into the pocket of her jeans instead. Yeah, she was nervous. "I'm just not sure how we go about this," she said. "Like I said, the weekend was fantastic. But then--"
"But then now what?" Leslie turned and pulled her again to the side of the building, away from traffic. "I was thinking I should be the one nervous as this is all new to me, but it's really new to you as well." Leslie moved closer. "We should have talked about this before I left your bed yesterday."
Casey nearly stumbled from the impact of those words. Before I left your bed. She closed her eyes for a brief moment as images of their lovemaking flashed through her mind. "Let's do this interview, do our job, then please come home with me," she said quietly. "We'll talk. We'll get some rest. We'll get ready for tonight."
"If I come home with you, we're not going to get any rest."
Casey swallowed. "Of course we will. We'll talk. We'll decide where we go from here." She took a deep breath. "And we'll...we'll sleep."
"Okay. But I'll warn you now. If I get into bed with you, sleep is not going to be the number one thing on my mind."
She turned, going back to the sidewalk, leaving Casey staring after her.
No, sleep wouldn't be on her mind, either.
"Maria?" Leslie smiled. "Detectives Tucker and O'Connor."
"Of course. I remember. You have some news about Rudy?"
Casey stepped forward. "We'd like to talk to you again,
if you don't mind. Do you have a few minutes?"
Leslie looked around the large room, most of the tables empty now as breakfast had already been served. A handful of volunteers busied about, clearing off tables. She turned back to Casey and Maria, waiting.
"The kitchen is very busy now. They are preparing lunch. Let's go into the storeroom. We should have privacy there."
They followed her, weaving their way between the tables to the other side of the room and down a hallway. The smell of soap and steam hit them as they rounded a corner. The showers, no doubt.
"How many do you feed at a normal meal?" Casey asked.
"There are no normal meals, Detective. Not surprisingly, lunch is the busiest meal. Some are still sleeping off the bottle of booze they scored and miss breakfast. And others start their evening prowls early and miss dinner. But lunch usually brings them all around." She stopped at a door. "In here."
The storeroom was large and nearly bursting at the seams. Leslie walked into the room, turning a circle. "Wow. Lot of stuff."
"Yes. We're stocking for winter. That whole wall there," she said, pointing, "is mostly blankets and coats. And of course, when we have a food drive, this is where the canned goods end up." She closed the door behind them. "But I'm sure you didn't come to inspect our inventory."
"We have some questions," Casey said. "About John Doe."
She smiled. "Oh, yes. John is very sweet. One of my favorites. He hasn't been coming regularly though."
"When he does come in, does he ever have anyone with him?" Leslie asked. She glanced at Casey. "Someone who looks like him? A girl that might hang with him?"
"No. I've never seen him with anyone. But he's friendly with most of the others." She frowned. "What is it you're asking?"
"John has a brother. Or a sister," Casey said. "Actually, it's a brother who dresses as a girl occasionally."
Maria's eyesbrows lifted in surprise. "No. There's been no one with him."
"Okay. But does John always seem like John?" Leslie asked. "I mean his personality," she explained.
"Everyone has bad days, Detective. I don't expect John to always have that childlike happiness about him. Life is hard on the street. Some days, I wonder how old John is, he looks so young and carefree. Then other times, his eyes have a hardness about them, making him seem much older. He's not always friendly, not always sociable. Sometimes, he doesn't even speak to me." She shrugged. "But like I said, life on the street, you have good days and you have bad days."
"But when he's sweet, happy, friendly," she coaxed.
"Yes. Then he always speaks to me. He calls me Miss Maria."
She smiled. "Yes, that's the John we know."
"And you've never seen John in a dress?" Casey asked.
"No. Why would John wear a dress? And what does this have to do with Rudy?" Her eyes widened. "You surely don't think John had something to do with his murder?"
"No, no," Leslie assured her. "We're just trying to piece together all of our information."
Casey turned, apparently inspecting the shelves filled with canned goods, her back to them. "Tell me, Maria, when John doesn't seem like John, does he look like John?"
"Well, yes. He--" she paused, glancing between them. "Oh, my goodness," she said quietly. "No. The hair."
Casey turned around. "The hair what?"
"John has light hair. But sometimes it's darker. I don't know why it didn't register before. The other day when he was here, when he didn't speak to me, I went over to ask him if he was okay. There was something different about him, his expression, the look in his eyes. And his hair. It was dark. Like he had dyed it." She frowned. "What's going on?"
Leslie glanced at Casey who nodded. She moved in front of Maria. "John has a brother. A twin. His name is Patrick."
Her eyes widened. "You don't mean the Patrick that--?"
"We believe so, yes. He also dresses as a girl sometimes. John calls him Patty on those days," she said matter-of-factly. "We just can't seem to find anyone who knows Patrick. Our belief is that when he's out, he wears a dress so he won't be recognized. And when he does dress as a man, he pretends to be John."
"Which is why sometimes John speaks to me and sometimes he doesn't," Maria said, her voice trailing away. "Sammy. John hangs with Sammy at night. If anyone would know, he would."
"Where can we find him?"
"Sammy comes for dinner. Never misses."
"Do you have a description of him?" Casey asked.
Maria smiled sadly. "Yeah. An unkempt old man with a shaggy beard and torn clothes. You can't miss him."
"I'm sorry," Casey said. "I didn't mean--"
"It's okay, Detective. I know you're just doing your job. And honestly, despite my description, they do all have their own look, their own personality. Even the street can't take that away."
"What time is dinner?" Leslie asked.
"Starts at five thirty. By seven, we're out of food."
"Would it be too much trouble for you to call us when Sammy shows up?" Casey asked. "I don't want to stake out the place for hours. No sense in making everyone nervous," she said.
"I can do that," Maria said. "Sammy is usually here by six."
Casey handed over her card. "We'll wait for your call. Thank you."
Chapter Thirty-Five
After a call to Hunter to let her know they'd be on duty by six, Casey tucked her phone away, glancing once at Leslie who sat quietly beside her, her eyes fixed on the passenger window. They hadn't spoken, and no doubt they were both nervous. Would they sit on the sofa and talk? Perhaps out on the deck? Or would they simply rip their clothes off and forget all about talking?
"Casey?"
"Hmm?"
"It's not always going to be this awkward between us, is it?"
"I don't think so, no."
Leslie finally turned away from the window, shifting in her seat. She reached across the console and touched her arm. "We need to talk, I know. However, I can't seem to get past the fact that I want to make love to you again."
Casey smiled. "Yeah, I was trying to decide if we could possibly sit on the sofa and talk like mature adults, or if I would just rip your clothes off and drag you to bed."
"I vote for the latter."
Casey didn't say anything as she turned on her street. She didn't know why she was so nervous. Whether they talked first or last, it didn't matter. But at some point, they were going to be naked. Naked, touching...and making love. She pulled into her driveway and stopped. They both sat still, waiting. Finally, she turned. Her breath left her as she saw the unguarded look in Leslie's eyes.
"Are you scared?" Leslie whispered.
Casey nodded. "A few days ago you were wearing an engagement ring. Yes, I'm scared to death."
Leslie smiled. "I was scared too. This morning, I was scared. What have I done? What happens next? Will people know? Did Casey enjoy it? All random thoughts running through my mind." She took a deep breath. "But then you came into the ladies' room, and just your presence calmed me. You were trying to be confident, in control." She smiled. "You had that attitude going. But then I looked into your eyes and saw that you were as nervous as I was. And when you left, I think I was more scared than before. Because I realized I was falling in love with you and I was terrified." She took Casey's hand and squeezed. "I'm not so terrified anymore," she said. "Because you're falling in love with me too. Aren't you?"
Casey couldn't pull her eyes away, and she certainly couldn't deny the statement. Was it too soon to feel that way? Could one weekend of passion propel them into love? Years ago she would have scoffed at the idea. Sex was sex. And the part of her that was terrified wanted to claim that it was only sex. Of course her mind was still cogent enough to realize the reason she was terrified in the first place. She was scared because it wasn't just sex. So she gave in to what her heart already knew. It would serve no purpose to deny it.
"Yes, I'm falling in love with you."
Relief shone in Leslie's eyes, and she wonde
red if perhaps Leslie thought she might refute it.
"Can we go inside now?" Leslie asked quietly. "I'll tell you why I'm not wearing a ring anymore, and I'll tell you what I told Michael." She squeezed her hand again. "I'll tell you anything you want to know. We can talk as much as you like." She smiled. "Or as little."
Yes, Casey wanted to know about the ring. She wanted to know what Leslie had told Michael. But that could wait, she thought, as she pulled Leslie through the house and into her bedroom. Talking could wait. They'd be stuck together in a car for twelve hours. They could talk then. Now, she just wanted her naked.
When she stopped and turned, Leslie was there, slipping into her arms. Their kiss was not gentle. It was hungry and demanding, needy and insistent. And as intoxicating as she remembered. They pulled apart, their breath uneven, both gasping for air. Without a word, they tugged at clothing, tossing it where they may, hurrying to get naked, to feel skin on skin, wetness on wetness.
Casey guided Leslie to the bed, a blinding need coursing through her as her fingers found Leslie, filling her, watching her face as pleasure transformed it. Leslie's hips rose, taking her inside, and Casey glided into her, her hand pumping faster, meeting each stroke as Leslie's hips rocked against her.
"Yes," Leslie breathed. " Take me..."
Casey did.
Chapter Thirty-Six
The quiet beeping of her phone roused her from sleep and she rolled, gently untangling Leslie's arms as she reached for it.
"O'Connor," she said sleepily.
"It's me."
She opened her eyes, squinting at the clock. Had they overslept? "Uh-huh."
"I thought I'd wake your ass up," Tori said. "You were asleep, right?"
"Right," she said around a yawn.
"But not alone, I'm guessing. Hope it was fun."
"Shut up, Hunter." She rolled her eyes as Tori's laughter rang out.
"Sorry, kid. Couldn't resist."
"Any luck?" she asked, changing the subject.
"Nope. We've driven a twelve-block radius all day and not one sign of the little bastard. Twenty-four hour tag only works if we're actually tagging him."
