McKee

by A. C. Henley

  McKee shrugged and produced her small battered wallet. She pulled her drivers license from its place and handed it to the woman, trying to contain the full body flush that she could feel creeping across her skin.

  "Ms. McKee?" She received a nod. "I'm detective Walsh. You seem to match the description of someone who was involved in the matter across the street. Do you have any idea why the manager of the hotel would implicate you?"

  McKee smiled, "Because he's still bitter about me interrupting his midday TV watching?"

  Vivian Walsh grinned, "Perhaps. It also could have been the gun in his face."

  "Possibly." McKee agreed.

  "Would you happen to have said weapon on you still?" Walsh asked handing the license back over her shoulder to a stocky man with silver hair and a thick mustache.

  McKee reached behind her and produced the gun. She held it by the barrel as she presented it to the Detective.

  Walsh took the gun and brought it to her nose. "Have you recently discharged this weapon Ms. McKee?"

  "Yes," came the simple reply.

  Tom Ross recognized the woman from fifty feet away. He hadn't laid eyes on her in nearly three years. He glanced at the Illinois license. At least that was one rumor that seemed true as to the where about of the elusive private investigator. He watched Quinlan McKee as she interacted with his partner. It seemed as though they were evenly matched to him. He opened his notebook and wrote a small note to himself. There would be a lot of people interested in the brunette's return.

  "Can you describe the situation and circumstance for the reason you discharged your weapon?" Walsh asked as she removed the magazine of the gun and cleared its chamber.

  "I happened to walk in on a man who was receiving head from a small boy. I noticed another small boy chained to the bed. Both children were naked and obviously abused. One of the boys had been castrated. I took my weapon and blew the bastards balls off." McKee said calmly.

  The older man behind Walsh snickered.

  The detective looked at the small woman before her. She was all of maybe 115 lbs, 5'5'', well-defined muscles, and a definite sublime quality about her. "Do you have a permit for this weapon Ms. McKee?"

  The brunette produced the proper paper work allowing her to carry a concealed weapon.

  Walsh turned to her partner, pulling him a few feet away "Well Tom, we can arrest her and explain how she found not just one missing boy but two, and subdued the kidnapper. Or we let her go and call it swift justice." She said examining the papers once again.

  "I would have blown the guys head off Viv." He looked around his partners shoulder at the brunette. "And for her not to have shows considerable restraint. She's a good guy Walsh, she found the boy, and we got our perp." He said handing the license back to his partner. "I'll vouch for her if need be."

  Vivian nodded, "Go on back Tom. I'll catch up with you." She then turned to the brunette. "Ms. McKee, would you mind telling me who hired you? And why you didn't call the authorities once you confirmed the missing child, that all of Los Angeles has been looking for, for the past six weeks I might add, was alive and in the custody of the perpetrator?"

  The brunette had made brief eye contact with the man she had hated for years. It had only been recently that she had been able to come to terms over the incident that had torn her world apart. She nodded at the man as he gave her a brief smile before walking away. She turned her attention back to the blonde detective.

  "Jonathan Peer hired me to find his son. As for the other, well I lost my temper. It's hard to sit idly by while a little boy is being sexually abused in front of your eyes. Other wise I would have dropped the pervert off at the station my self."

  The detective nodded, Vivian looked closely at the smaller woman in front of her. Her driver license indicated her age to be thirty-two, but she looked like she was in her mid twenties at best. Her short black hair was in tiny spikes all over her head, a pair of dark sunglasses nested there. Pierced ears with small diamond earrings in each lobe, gray eyes that were open and clear, even in the glare of the afternoon sun, a small silver hoop was threaded thru the left eyebrow. If it weren't for the sun shining off it Vivian would have missed it all together. Muscular arms, a thin waist that tapered to curvy hips, and well defined thighs.

  The faded jeans that covered those thighs had a rip across the top of one leg where the leg met the hip. A bit of tan flesh and black lace panties peaked out of the frayed rip. Without much thought Vivian raised her eyes to the brunette's chest wondering if there was a matching bra under the form fitting tank top. She unconsciously blushed as she recognized that there was no bra at all present, and that either from her gawking, or the cool wind that blew down the street, the nipples on two small, firm, breasts became hard.

  Quinlan cocked her head to the side as the tall blonde blushed. She wasn't able to control how her body had reacted to the outright perusal the detective gave her. At least she wasn't the only one suffering. She cleared her throat gaining the woman's attention and her vibrant blue eyes with her own gray. "I can arrange for a private viewing if you like detective." McKee smirked as the blonde's mouth dropped open, lips moved but no words came forth. "I mean it's obvious you're interested." She said with a deep purr.

  Vivian blinked several times as her brain processed the words spoken to her. "I was… was… just…" She shook her head and thrust the brunette's ID and permit toward her, followed by McKee's gun. "You're free to go Ms. McKee."

  Quinlan accepted the items and tucked them away in their proper places, aware that the blonde's eyes still watched her. She produced a small black business card and took three steps forward into the private space of the detective. "Perhaps you'll change your mind. All my numbers are on there; call anytime." She tucked the card into the blonde's ample cleavage and walked silently to her car, wondering when the hell her libido had taken over her usually unsocial nature.

  Vivian spun around and called out to the departing woman, "Not in this lifetime McKee!"

  Quin simply raised a dark eyebrow at the detective before sliding into the car. She watched in her rear view mirror as she pulled away. The blonde pulled the black card from her shirt and tucked it into her pants pocket. McKee smiled to herself as she found the freeway on ramp and headed home.

  Tom Ross turned in his seat to look at his partner as she sank behind the wheel. It wasn't often he saw the woman flustered. "I have her phone number if you're interested."

  "What?" Vivian asked as she hooked her seatbelt and started the car.

  "The PI, I know her phone number, or maybe you'd like me to call and give her yours?"

  The blonde looked at her partner, "Are you insane? That woman should be in jail; she's hardly better than the scum we just arrested. I don't even know what I'm going to tell the lieutenant my reasoning on that is and you think I'd be interested in a date with her?" She huffed as she weaved the car between two police cruisers. "She's so not my type anyway…"

  Tom grinned, "Uh huh." He opens his notebook and started organizing his information for the report he'd soon be writing.

  "What would you know about it? You haven't been on a date in twenty years." Vivian continued.

  "I already have my dream girl Walsh. I don't need a date. You on the other hand might want a career change," he kept his eyes down writing in his notebook, "Perhaps a convent."

  The blonde scowled out the window. "I'm going to ignore that Ross."

  Light laughter came from the passenger seat.

  Vivian couldn't help the smile that crept onto her lips. This is how it had been between them since day one. Tom Ross was a capable detective. He had a wife and five kids with number six on the way. He was constantly bragging about his family, and had dragged Vivian to dinner that first night to his house.

  Vivian, who had been on her own since she was eleven, was overwhelmed by the welcome she had received. She had gained a family in the blink of an eye. She had felt so comfortable that when Ruth, Tom's wife, had asked her if she h
ad a boyfriend that she simply stated that she currently didn't have a girlfriend, but was always on the look out. The woman hardly missed a beat before a vow was given by the small redheaded woman that she would help with the endeavor.

  That was it. Her partner quickly became her best friend, and his wife the sister and mother she never had. Tom had taken to teasing her relentlessly, and she gave as good as she got. Together they made a great team.

  "I sure would like to know how she came up with that guy." Tom mused looking out the front window of the car, his eyebrows knitted in thought.

  Vivian had been thinking the same thing. Now that would be a good reason to call the brunette. A legitimate reason, she thought as she weaved through rush hour traffic towards the station.

  PART 2

  QUIN TURNED THE key in the lock of the large stained glass door to her house. The inside was quiet and dark. A soft fwap of the pet door and the click of a dog's paws was the only thing that greeted her as she closed the door. By the time she turned around to secure the door, the large head of the black Labrador was rubbing against her thigh in an attempt to get some attention. She let her hand drop and pat the dog's head and her fingers scratched behind each ear. As she squatted to retrieve the mail from the floor, the dog's wet tongue swiped her cheek several times.

  "Thanks buddy." She smiled as she wiped the slick residue from her face with her jacket sleeve. She stood and flipped through the correspondence as she walked the long hall to the kitchen, her way lit only by the streetlights streaming through various windows.

  She used her elbow to turn on the light in the kitchen and went to the fridge. The mail found its way onto a growing stack of letters and bills on the counter. Quin stood in front of the open refrigerator, peering in at the contents for several minutes. The big black dog sat on his haunches looking in as well. After several more minutes dog and human looked at each other and sighed. "We really need to go to the store Mike. This is pitiful."

  Dark eyes blinked at her then turned back to the open fridge. The dog huffed once then walked away to his own food bowl to happily much on his standard kibble.

  Quin shook her head. It had been a long day. She counted herself lucky not to be in jail. She had broken just about every rule possible today.

  The refrigerator door swung shut with a slight push. The brunette opted for an apple from a bowl on the table and a glass of water. She stood leaning against the counter while she ate, watching Mike crunch endlessly on his food. She made quick work of the piece of fruit and downed her water in three gulps. The core flew effortlessly into the trashcan in the corner.

  She returned to the fridge and made a quick ice pack for her bruised hand.

  "Well Mike, another day, another dollar." Quin walked from the kitchen, stripping her jacket and depositing it on a bench in the hall, the clicking of paws followed behind her. It was still early. The fall sun had set leaving the early evening hours dark. She glances up the staircase; she hadn't ventured up the stairs since her return. Tonight would be no different as she headed to the basement door.

  Her office took up most of the basement. There were several banks of computers strewn in a haphazard mess on three desks that formed a U off of one wall, as well as white boards on stands and one bolted to the basement wall surrounded by corkboard. A worn couch laid against one wall, a crumpled blanket pushed to one end, and a needlepoint pillow at the other. Three small TVs hung from the ceiling, and a police scanner chirped away from a low shelf that also contained a coffee maker.

  Quin stood in front of one white board that contained pictures and notes from this latest case. She had found the boy, but not the person who had taken the boy. She let her eyes stay on the picture of the smiling eight year old, preferring that as a last image rather than the one she carried home with her from the dingy hotel room. The florescent lamp that lit the board's contents seemed harsh against the boy's likeness. This picture deserved to sit in a place lit by sunlight, she thought.

  She also thought of the other little boy she found by happenstance. His condition appalling, his small mutilated body would never recover from the act of castration.

  "Who are they Mike?" She asked the big dog who had taken up residence on the couch, his head resting on her pillow. "Who does things to children like that and lives with himself?" Dark eyes blinked at her.

  She picked up a blue marker and wrote in large letters across the board, HOW MANY MORE? That had been the question that had been nagging at her since she tracked the boy down. He had been literally sold and bought as merchandise on the internet. How many missing children were sold and bought everyday? Who was taking them? How could they be stopped?

  "Quite the can of worms Mike." Quin took a few steps and sank into a high back leather chair that sat in the space between the desks. Her hands bumped keyboards and a mouse to wake up the sleeping monitors. She reached behind herself and blindly pressed the recall button on the answering machine. The same hand picked up a remote control, and she turned on one of the TV's, muting the sound as she used the same remote to activate the sound system hanging from the wall under the TV's. Nina Simone's sultry voice sang to Quin as she started her nightly routine of information gathering.

  Tom Ross entered his large ranch house just after seven in the evening. He quietly emptied his pockets into the glass dish that sat on a table beside the door. He could hear his family talking away in the dining room. Dinner well underway at this hour. He felt a pang of guilt at that, thinking that they probably waited much too long for him before they started the meal anyway.

  He walked through the deserted living room. Schoolbooks littered the coffee table and floor, a tangible sign that school was once again in full swing for his four oldest children. He reminded himself to ask each of them about their classes and teachers. Sometimes he would forget such things, and his wife would have to remind him.

  He shrugged out of his suit jacket as he crossed into the dining room. His children greeted him with genuine smiles and clamoring words of welcome home. He made his way around the table kissing each child, ending at his wife who looked at him with a knowing smirk. Tom leaned over and kissed her gently as the children voiced their disapproval of such a display by their parents. He couldn't help the smile that came to his lips as he sat back in his chair.

  Generous amounts of food found way to his plate as the conversation picked up once again. He leaned towards his wife, "Sorry, I should have called, but…"

  "We saw the news, Vivian handled herself well." Ruth Ross spoke while urging her three-year-old son to eat a small piece of carrot. "I'd hoped she would have been with you tonight. I found a date for her."

  Tom raised his eyebrows as he himself shuffled his carrots to one side of his plate away from the rest of his meal. "Does she meet all the criteria?"

  Ruth slowly nodded, "Employed, no children, and no recent criminal activity."

  Tom laughed, "Wow, that list certainly has dwindled over the last two years."

  "I kept telling her she was too picky." Ruth said as she speared a carrot on the end of her fork from her husband's plate and offered it to him much in the same way as she just had done to his son.

  Tom looked at his wife, then the carrot. The table grew quiet and all eyes rested on him, waiting to see what he would do.

  "Eat." The three year old encouraged him in much the same way he had recently been.

  "You'll pay for this later, Dr. Ross." He softly said with a smile at his wife, then wrapped his lips around the fork in front of him and took the carrot into his mouth and made a good show of enjoying the small piece of vegetable.

  His children cheered for him as he swallowed hard to get the now mushy substance to go down his throat. As a reward his wife kissed him on his rough cheek. He growled at the teasing his older two sons and two daughters gave him. It was wonderful to be home, and he wouldn't trade it for anything in the world.

  Nearly three hours later and after having to resort to her reading glasses as eyestrain be
gan to set in Quin looked up. There on the muted TV was Detective Walsh. The brunette felt a flash of heat at remembering the frank inspection the detective gave her in the late afternoon sun. She muted the stereo and turned the volume up on the TV.

  "What's the boy's condition now Detective?" a disembodied voice asked.

  "Scott is in good physical condition. He has been reunited with his parents. We are still trying to determine the identity of the second boy. His condition is guarded, but he's expected to survive." Bright blue eyes squinted slightly against the harsh camera lights as Vivian Walsh answered the barrage of questions hurled at her by the press.

  "The man who was holding Scott was reported as being injured…."

  "No comment on the condition of Mr. Peterson, except that he's under arrest for the kidnapping of Scott Peer. I'm sure further charges will be added as the days progress." This time the detective smiled slightly. "That's all I have at the moment ladies and gentlemen…"

  "Detective! Is it true that Scott was found by the vigilante Angel of Justice and that the police happened onto the scene after several calls to 911?" The male voice off camera was booming and came over the other disappointed mumbles of the group of reporters loud and clear.

  "Angel of Justice?" Quin said to her self… "God! How corny is that?" She rolled her eyes.

  "I have nothing more at this time." Detective Walsh restated as she turned and made her way back into the building.

  "Angel of Justice?" she repeated again, "Got to put an end to that moniker!" The sound of her doorbell ringing brought her to her feet and up the stairs two at a time. The bell rang again. She looked out the side window and raised a delicate black brow. She opened the door.

  "Detective. I was just watching you on the news." Quin greeted keeping the Labrador at bay with one foot. Mike took the hint finally and shrugged off to the kitchen.

  Vivian Walsh smiled, "And here I thought I was just dealing with another smart ass PI, when I actually have had the honor of coming into contact with the Angel of Justice."