Hunter's Way

by Gerri Hill

  Tori Hunter stood and grabbed her coffee cup and walked away. Samantha stared after her. She was taller than Samantha, but only by a few inches. Short dark hair, dark eyes. She wouldn’t call her boyish, she was too attractive for that. Definitely moody. Why the sudden change? Did she answer one of the questions wrong?

  “Don’t worry about her, honey. She’s just being her usual bitchy self,” John Sikes told her as he walked over.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Hunter,” he explained.

  “No. Honey? Were you talking to me?”

  He flashed her a charming smile and sat on the corner of her desk.

  “Sorry. No offense.” He stuck out his hand. “John Sikes, at your service,” he said.

  She took his hand, then dropped it quickly as he squeezed.

  “No offense, John, but I’d appreciate it if you didn’t call me honey. I’ll try to refrain from calling you names as well.”

  He laughed and she smiled at him. He really was attractive, she had to admit.

  “So, you’re stuck with Hunter. Sorry about that. I wish you luck.”

  “I’m sure I’ll be fine,” she said.

  “Well, if you need anything… anything at all, you just let me know.”

  “Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.”

  Tori came back with two steaming cups of coffee and set one on Samantha’s desk. She flicked her eyes to Sikes.

  “Don’t you have work to do?”

  “Just introducing myself, Hunter. Don’t get excited.”

  “Trust me, you don’t excite me.”

  He laughed again, then pulled himself off of Samantha’s desk, ignoring Tori. “So, Samantha, you want to maybe get dinner some night? I can fill you in on all the local gossip,” he offered.

  “No thanks. I’m involved with someone. I doubt he’d appreciate that,” she said.

  He shrugged. “You never know. Offer is always open,” he said as he walked away.

  “Stay away from him,” Tori said. “He’s a jerk.”

  Samantha smiled. Yes, she agreed.

  “Does anyone here like you?” she asked.

  “No.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t bullshit, I don’t play games.”

  “That doesn’t mean you can’t be friends with the people you work with,” Samantha said.

  “Friends? With those guys?” Tori leaned forward. “Adams hates me because I’m a woman. He could care less about my job performance. I’m just a woman. Donaldson, his partner, follows his lead, even though Adams barely tolerates him because he’s black. Ramirez is the only one who shows me even the slightest consideration and because of that, he has to listen to ridicule from the others, especially Sikes, his partner.”

  “That can’t all be because you’re a woman.”

  “No, not just because I’m a woman. Because I’m a woman and I’m better at the job than they are.”

  “Oh. Well, it’s good to know you’re not in the least conceited,” Samantha said with a smile.

  “Why are you here?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Did they ask you or did you volunteer?”

  “I requested a transfer months ago. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Tori nodded and sipped from her coffee. “So, you have a boyfriend?”

  “Yes. Why?”

  Tori shrugged. “It’ll make it easier on you. Sikes will only hit on you every other day. Adams will at least think there’s hope you’ll get married and pregnant and get out of his territory.”

  “You paint a very bleak picture of this office, Hunter. I’ve worked around men my whole career. I’ve never had a problem with them. I doubt I will here, either. I do a good job.”

  Tori shrugged again. She was probably right. She was straight and attractive. She was no threat to them. Unlike herself.

  “I’m going to go down to Central and show our girl’s picture around. Maybe she’s been hauled in before. Want to come?”

  “As opposed to staying here and being leered at by Sikes?”

  Chapter Three

  It was after six when Samantha walked into her apartment and collapsed on her sofa. It had been a mentally trying day and she was exhausted. She glanced over at the phone. Three messages. Kicking off her shoes, she stretched out, hitting her voice mail as she lay down.

  “It’s me, sweetheart. I wanted to see if you were up to dinner. Can’t wait to hear about your first day. Call me when you get in.”

  She nodded, waiting for the beep.

  “It’s me. So how did it go? If you can sneak away from Robert one night, why don’t we get dinner. It’s been awhile.”

  She nodded again, mentally making a note to call Amy later.

  “Sorry, Samantha, can’t do dinner tonight after all. I’ve got a late meeting. I’ll call you when I’m done. Maybe I can swing by.”

  She shook her head. She was too tired. She was actually thankful Robert had a meeting. She pushed off the sofa, taking her clothes off as she headed to the bathroom. A long, hot shower helped revive her somewhat. Unfortunately, her refrigerator didn’t miraculously contain dinner. Sorting through the frozen meals in her freezer, she grabbed one and popped it in the microwave. Her refrigerator did, however, contain a bottle of wine.

  She took a glass and the entire bottle into the living room, settling into her recliner.

  “Ahh,” she murmured as she put her feet up. She grabbed the phone, and with her thumb, punched out Amy’s number.

  “It’s me,” she said when her best friend answered.

  “Well, hello, Detective. How’d it go?”

  Samantha smiled and sipped from her wine.

  “I survived… barely,” she said. “I’m afraid it’s dangerously close to a mental ward, but I survived.”

  “That bad, huh?”

  “I’ve never in my life seen so many egos and that much testosterone in one place before.”

  Amy laughed. “I told you to stay put. The boys in Homicide don’t mess around with little girls.”

  “My partner’s a woman,” Samantha said.

  “You’re kidding? What? They lump you both together so you won’t get in the way?”

  “You may have heard of her. Tori Hunter.”

  “Jesus Christ! She’s the nut that jumped out of the two-story building. We’re defending the guy she nabbed,” Amy said.

  “Yes, that’s her. So, you got the case?”

  “No, Michaels does. It’s a dead end, though. He’s going to plea.”

  “She’s supposedly very good at her job,” Samantha said. “She doesn’t exactly fare too well with partners, though. I’m not sure we’re going to get along.”

  “Oh, you’ll do fine. Everyone likes you.”

  “Yes. But not everyone likes her. It’s going to be difficult. She’s moody as hell and she resents me being assigned to her.”

  “I’m sure you’ll win her over. Where’s Robert?”

  “Meeting. Thankfully. I was too tired for dinner. In fact, I’m too tired for company, period.”

  “So how are things going with you guys?”

  “Okay.”

  “Okay? You’ve been seeing him for two years. When are you going to talk marriage?”

  “Marriage? I don’t think we’re at that stage, Amy.” In fact, she knew she wasn’t. Robert had hinted they might move in together, but she’d balked. She liked her privacy and her time alone. He didn’t really understand but he didn’t push. Not much, anyway.

  “He’s a good guy, Samantha. You could do a lot worse.”

  “Yes, I know. He’s a sweetheart. I’m just not ready to get married.”

  “You think it’ll interfere with your career?”

  “Well, there’s that,” she said. “He hates it now when I’m out nights. Can you imagine if we were married?”

  “And working Homicide, you’ll be out nights more often,” Amy said.

  “Most likely. So, how are you doing? Still seeing Eric?�
�� Samantha asked, thankful to change the subject.

  “Yes. I wish I could say I’m in love with him, but I’m not. He’s just so damn attractive. I keep thinking it’ll come,” she said with a laugh.

  Samantha shook her head. Amy had always been swayed by a pretty face. In that, Samantha was lucky. Robert was handsome and she was… well, she loved him. Was she in love with him? Maybe. At least she thought she should be.

  They really had a great relationship. They rarely argued. When they did, it was usually over cases. He was a defense attorney. Thankfully, they had never worked the same case.

  She was asleep on the sofa when he called later that evening. He wanted to come over.

  “Robert, I’m really exhausted. Can we hook up tomorrow?” she asked.

  “Of course. How did it go today?”

  “It went… okay,” she said. “It’ll be different, that’s for sure,” she said around a yawn. “I’m sorry,” she murmured.

  “That’s okay. Go back to sleep. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

  She wanted to burrow deeper into the sofa, but she made herself get up and into bed.

  Chapter Four

  Samantha felt refreshed when her alarm went off at six. She showered quickly, deciding to grab coffee on the way. She wanted to be early. For some reason, she felt the need to beat Tori Hunter to work.

  It was a sunny morning and warm for March. Of course, that was relative. March in Dallas was either hinting at summer or hanging on to winter. Spring lasted but a few weeks.

  She was early enough to beat traffic and she stopped at a coffeehouse on the corner of Commerce and Oakland. She eyed the pastries before deciding on a croissant. Ham and cheese filled, but still better than a pastry, she reasoned. She ate while she drove the two blocks to the station. She was early. The lot was only half full.

  But her good mood vanished when she saw Tori Hunter sitting at her desk, phone already tucked on her shoulder. The same as it was when she’d left last evening. Damn, did the woman even go home?

  “Morning,” she said.

  “Uh-huh.” Tori glanced up briefly, then away. “It’s Hunter. I want to go over the lab reports. I’ll be down in a half-hour.” A pause. “Yes, I know what time it is. Do you?” She hung up. “Idiots.”

  “Well, off to another fine start,” Samantha murmured. She pulled out her chair and sat looking at her new partner, wondering what was on the agenda today. The lab reports, obviously. She’d left after five and they hadn’t received them yet. Apparently, Tori had gotten her hands on them somehow.

  “Seems our girl was busy before she died. Four different semen types,” Tori said.

  “When did you get the report?”

  “Last night,” she said absently. “You want to come or do you want to stay here and settle in?”

  Samantha waited until Tori Hunter looked up.

  “Are you always this difficult to work with?”

  “Yes.”

  “No wonder Kaplan jumped. He was probably wishing it was four stories instead of two.”

  “Very funny. Are you coming?”

  “Yes, Hunter, I’m coming. Christ, did you even go home?”

  “No.”

  “Did you sleep?”

  Tori turned and faced Samantha.

  “Whether I slept or not and where is none of your business.” She turned and left without another word.

  “Lovely. I’ve landed in hell.”

  The trip to the lab was made in silence and Samantha kept her hands locked together in her lap, staring straight ahead as they crept along in traffic. Couldn’t wait a half-hour and let the traffic die, no. Had to leave right then. Had to have us stuck together in this god-damn car.

  “So, do your friends call you Sam?”

  “Excuse me?” It was the first words they had spoken since they left the squad room.

  “Sam? Do they call you that?”

  “Not if they expect me to answer them,” Samantha said.

  Tori nodded. “Sam it is, then.”

  “No. I detest that name.”

  “Sorry. Samantha is just too… formal.”

  “Formal? It’s my name.”

  “I like Sam better,” Tori said.

  “Well, I don’t. I forbid you to call me Sam.”

  “Forbid?” Tori laughed. “You’re not serious, are you?”

  I hate her.

  It seemed like hours later before they walked into the lab. Samantha noticed that no one greeted them. In fact, they avoided them. Great. I’m partnered with a psycho whom no one can stand. She thought it amazing that Hunter got any cooperation at all in the department.

  “Jackson. Good morning,” Tori said, walking up to an older man and touching hands with him briefly. “This is Sam Kennedy, my new partner,” she said, motioning to Samantha.

  “It’s Samantha,” she said through clenched teeth as she shook the doctor’s hand.

  “Nice to meet you, Detective. I’m Arthur Jackson.” He took a stick of gum from his lab coat and folded it into thirds before sticking it in his mouth. “My staff tells me you’ve been badgering them, Hunter. What’s the problem?”

  “No problem. Just six hours late on lab reports,” she said. “I got impatient.”

  He laughed. “You get impatient when we’re an hour late. I can’t imagine your attitude after six.” He walked down the hall and they followed. “Your Jane Doe was a popular gal, Detective. I’m guessing she’s sixteen, maybe seventeen. Hard to tell. Life on the street ages you quickly.”

  “Her street name was Lorraine,” Tori said. “She’s fairly new on the streets, they tell me.”

  Samantha stared, wondering how in the world Tori had gotten this information. And why the hell hadn’t she told her.

  “I’m going to guess she’s from New Orleans,” Dr. Jackson said. “She has a tattoo on her right arm. Mardi Gras type of thing. We traced it. Some sort of gang symbol down there. Sara’s running a report for you.”

  “Thanks. Now, what about the semen?”

  Dr. Jackson held the door open to his office and they preceded him, each taking a seat in front of his desk.

  “Four types. You’d think they’d be smart enough to use condoms.” He flipped open a file on his desk. “Two were from semen in the rectum. The only sign of violence was strangulation. No recent bruises. There were two old fractures. Wrist and tibia. That’s it.”

  “You run the semen through? No DNA matches?”

  “None.”

  “Drugs?”

  “Clean.”

  “Not much to go on, Doc.”

  “No. There’s not.”

  Samantha sat and listened to their exchange, still seething because Tori apparently had been working last night while she was sleeping peacefully in her bed.

  Tori’s cell phone interrupted her thoughts. She watched as Tori pulled it off the clip on her jeans.

  “Hunter.”

  “Got another hooker. Dumpster over in Central.”

  Samantha saw the frown, the tightening of lips.

  “Great. Thanks, Fisk.” Tori looked briefly at Samantha, then folded her cell phone. “Got another body, Jackson.” She stood, then turned back. “I’m looking for a semen match.”

  Samantha hurried after Tori as she nearly ran down the hallway. She hated not knowing what the hell was going on. When they were on the road again, Samantha turned to her.

  “What’s up?”

  “They found another body.”

  “Yes. I heard. Thank you. But I want to know what’s going on,” she said.

  Tori shrugged. “You know as much as I do.”

  “Bullshit! How do you know her street name was Lorraine?”

  “I asked.”

  “You asked who?”

  “Hookers.”

  “Goddamn it, Hunter! I’m supposed to be your partner. Not some puppy dog that just follows you around during daylight hours and goes home. If you were going out last night, why didn’t you tell me? I could have gone with
you.”

  “You’d already put in nine hours, Detective. You were tired. You have a boyfriend waiting. There was no reason for you to hang around the back alleys at midnight asking about a dead hooker.”

  “What the hell does that have to do with anything? If you’re working, I should be working. You could have at least asked me,” she said.

  “I work at odd hours. I doubt you’d be able to keep up,” Tori said lightly.

  “Try me,” Samantha challenged. “You’re not going to run me off, Hunter. So unless you shoot me or push me out of a two-story building, I’m going to be here. I want to be here.” God, did I just say that?

  “Why do you think I’m trying to run you off?”

  Samantha stared at her. “You’ve hardly been friendly. Hell, you’ve barely been tolerable. You don’t share shit with me. You go off on your own like some cowboy. Do you even know what the word partner means?”

  “Look, this is my case. I’ve been on my own for two months since Kaplan… fell.” She nearly laughed. She could still picture him dangling from the railing, yelling for her to wait.

  “Well, this is our case now and why the hell are you smiling?”

  “Sorry. Thinking about Kaplan,” Tori said.

  “He fell out of a two-story window. That makes you smile?”

  “He was twenty pounds overweight. I told him to go down and take the stairs,” she said. “But he couldn’t let me win. Couldn’t let me catch the guy without him.”

  “So he jumped?”

  “Jumped? No, he tried to hang himself from the fire escape,” she said. “He was up there doing chin-ups, trying to climb back up.”

  Samantha didn’t know Kaplan, but the visual she got made her smile.

  “So, where are we going?”

  “Central. Why don’t you call Fisk and get the address.”

  Twenty minutes later, they were in the downtown warehouse district. Samantha recognized one of the uniformed men from her days at Central. Paul Stanton. He’d asked her out nearly once a week for the first year.

  “Hey, Paul, how’s it going?”

  “Samantha? What are you doing here? I thought you were with Assault.”

  “I’m with Homicide now. Did you find her?”

  “No. Someone called it in. By the time we got here, there was already a crowd. Got a woman over there that can identify her,” he said, pointing to an elderly lady talking to another officer.