Chasing Darkness (17 page)

Helping
Derek up, Nick gave the boy the tablets and then water to wash them down.

Derek
sank back on the couch.

“You
think you could eat something?”

Derek
shrugged.

“I’ll
heat up some soup and you can just eat it when you feel up to it. You need a
lot of liquids—juice, soup, whatever you can handle.”

“I’d
like some juice.”

“I
think there’s some in the freezer,” Rob said. “I’ll make it.”

“I’ll
be right back, Derek,” Nick said. “You call if you need us.”

Derek
nodded, and Nick stood up and headed into the kitchen. As he and Rob worked
side by side, heating soup and making juice, Nick found himself settling into
the feel of Sam’s house. He watched Rob pour the frozen concentrate into a
pitcher, splashing the red juice on his white T-shirt.

“Oh,
man.”

Nick
smiled and put his arm around Rob.

“It’s
my favorite shirt.”

“It’ll
come out.”

Rob
flipped on a radio beside the microwave, and Nick caught the familiar sound of
John Coltrane.

“You
always listen to jazz in here?”

“Aunt
Sam’s all into this station now.”

Nick
smiled and worked to Coltrane, listening for the sound of Sam’s car as though
it were the most natural thing in the world that he should be in her house,
making dinner with her boys.

As
he cranked open a can of soup, he felt the familiar buzz of his pager. Lifting
it off his belt, he stared down at the number. His captain. He crossed behind
Rob and picked up the phone, dialing the station as he put his beeper back on
his belt.

“Cintrello.
Thomas here,” he told the clerk who answered.

“Thomas.”
Cintrello sounded as though he’d snapped up the phone on the first ring. “I got
news.”

“Another?”

“No.”

“Where’s
the top to this thing?” Rob asked, holding the plastic pitcher with juice.

Nick
turned and pulled open cupboards in search of a lid. “What’s up, Captain?”

“Where
the hell are you?”

“My
sister’s,” he lied.

“Well,
I’ll make it short, then. I took a call about a half hour ago from a source who
says one of ours is the perp.”

Nick
halted. He’d thought a cop could be behind the killings. Who else would have
had the inside info? “You’ve got a line on our suspect?”

“Maybe,
maybe not.”

Nick
frowned. “You going to tell me who this source thinks is involved?”

His
captain exhaled. “Chase.”

“That’s
bullshit,” he snapped and then looked at Rob, who was staring at him wide-eyed.
“Sorry,” Nick mouthed. “No, that can’t be right,” he said to Cintrello,
lowering his voice and turning away from Rob. “This guy—your source—he thinks
she did it? Impossible. She’s a great cop, Captain. What would be the motive?”

“Slow
down, Thomas, and watch your fucking mouth. If you can’t look at this thing
objectively, I’ll yank you.”

“This
is objective, Captain. I know her as well as anyone, and I’d stake my badge on
it.”

“That’s
not objective, Thomas. Jesus Christ, you’re not screwing her, are you?”

“God,
no,” he said quickly, one part of him wishing he was lying, one part glad he
wasn’t. “Is there evidence?”

“Yes.”

“What—”

“It’s
not enough to try a case on, but the undersheriff has got his panties in a knot
over what happened last fall and he’s not about to take chances.”

Nick
nodded. Last fall, the sheriff’s office had ignored reports that one of their
own, Officer John Patrick Yaskevich, was involved in the sale of unregistered
weapons. When it turned out to be true, the sheriff got more than an earful
from the governor and there was a bloodbath in the papers. “They can’t possibly
think this is the same thing,” Nick said.

“We’re
not talking about it anymore, Thomas,” Cintrello said. “The D.O.J. is insisting
she stay on the case, but I’ve been told that my ass is on the line. That means
your ass is on the line. Got it?”

“Got
it.”

“You’re
my insider. You keep your eyes open, and if something looks fishy, I hear about
it. Are we clear?”

“I
still don’t—”

“Thomas,
shut your trap already. We’ll see what the source has. Then we’ll talk. Corona
is demanding that everything remain the same until then. But I’m letting you
know to keep your eyes and ears open. Clear?”

“Yeah.”

“If
I find out you held something back, I’ll feed you to IAD myself.”

Nick
didn’t reply. The internal affairs division was a group he’d been fortunate
enough never to deal with.

“Understand?”

His
chest was deflated. “Yeah,” he said with his last puff of air.

Nick
hung up the phone and leaned against the counter.

“I
found the lid,” Rob announced, holding up the pitcher of juice.

“Nice
work.”

Rob
looked at him. “Is Sam in trouble?”

Nick
blinked and shook his head, pointing at the phone. “No. That was something
else.”

Rob
nodded, but Nick wasn’t sure he believed him. “I’m going to take some in to
Der.”

Nick
put his hand on Rob’s shoulder. “Thanks.” As Rob left the room, Nick felt
trapped. His loyalty had always been with the department, but he couldn’t
possibly keep this news from Sam. He didn’t believe the allegations for a
second, and Sam deserved to know what was being said about her. He only
wondered how the hell he was going to tell her that she was a suspect in her
own case.

Sam
could hear her intake of breath in the silence as she fought for a rational
explanation for the sudden darkness. She’d never seen the lights off before. A
guard was supposed to shut them off when he was sure the office was empty. She
picked up the phone again. Still no dial tone. She put the receiver down and
called out.

No
one answered.

Her
breath was ragged, and she inhaled through her nose to slow her pulse.
Silently, she turned the key in the top drawer and opened it. She lifted her
gun out, then checked the safety lock before heading out into the hallway.

“Who’s
there?” she repeated.

The
office was dead quiet. Her department almost always cleared out by five-thirty,
and without windows the darkness made it feel like the middle of the night. She
took small steps and kept her back to the wall, the gun low in her right hand.

She
moved slowly toward the exit, feeling her way along the wall. The only light in
the room came from the tiny red LEDs on the phones and computer monitors, left
on but long since in sleep mode. She knew the light switch was along the wall,
but she couldn’t tell how far.

Pressing
forward, she felt her way past the doorjamb of Gary Williams’ office. Her heel
caught on a rough patch of carpet and she tripped forward, falling awkwardly.
The gun fell from her hand and landed with a dull thud on the carpet. She
squinted, trying to make out the shape of it in the dark, but couldn’t see
anything.

She
ran her fingers over the floor before her. The gun was too heavy to have gone
far. She moved forward, spreading her arms in a radius around her, feeling for
the familiar steel of her weapon. “Shit.”

In
the distance she heard a phone ringing. Her pulse quickened, though the sound
was as normal as her voice. “Calm down,” she told herself. She made a last
attempt to locate her gun but couldn’t. She needed to find the lights first.

Getting
to her feet, she found the wall again and groped like a blind person toward the
outer office. She remembered the small flashlight in the first aid kit in her
desk and wondered if she could locate it in the dark. She considered trying
another phone. Maybe Aaron’s would work. But she didn’t want to turn around
with her gun lying on the floor. Cursing herself for letting go of it, she
moved forward again. Her fingers hit the outer edge of the plastic mounting for
the light switch. Exhaling, she flipped the light switch. Nothing happened.

“Fuck,”
she muttered.

On
the far side of the floor, she heard the soft brush of shoe against carpet. She
froze, the small vibrations resounding beneath her toes as the feet grew
nearer.

She
squatted and scanned the floor one last time for her gun, but couldn’t find it.
She considered hiding under a desk, but instead she straightened her shoulders
and called out. “Hello.”

There
was no answer.

She
paused, thinking perhaps the security guard was making his rounds with
headphones on. It wouldn’t surprise her. But surely he had noticed the lights
were off.

“Who’s
there?” she asked again.

Again,
no one answered.

The
building required a pass for entry. The windows in the small, low-ceilinged
lobby were bulletproof. Whoever was there had to be someone who had access. Was
it the person who’d taken her file? Was it the same person who’d left the note?
Her pulse drilled a frantic beat against her chest. Where the hell was her gun?

As
she started to bend over, she heard the creak of something nearby. Spinning
around, she snapped, “Who’s there?”

No
one answered.

She
took a bold step forward.

The
lights snapped on.

She
found herself face-to-face with Gary Williams. His elflike features were drawn
up in a smile. Both rows of tiny block teeth were displayed, reminding Sam of a
rat baring its teeth. A mop of curly dark hair and large eyes only added to his
elfish appearance. She cursed her erratic heartbeat and scanned the floor to
locate her gun.

It
had flown four feet across the room. She scooped it up and spun toward
Williams, clutching the weapon in a tight fist. “What the hell is wrong with
you?” she screamed.

Williams
had been by earlier to bother her about her notes on a case they were working
on, and again she’d blown him off. Was that why he was creeping around in the
dark?

Williams
raised both hands in the air like it was a holdup. “Chase, put the fucking gun
down. You’re losing it.”

Sam
kept the gun pointed where it was. “Why didn’t you answer me when I called
out?”

“You
didn’t identify yourself. I thought I was walking into some trap.” He motioned
to the gun. “Are you going to put that down? Jesus Christ, what’s up with you
lately?”

“Is
everything all right?” a voice called from behind her.

Sam
whipped around and lowered her weapon.

The
security guard stood with his flashlight, staring.

Sam
glared at Williams, then answered in a tight voice, “Everything’s fine. What
happened to the lights?”

“Someone
tripped the breaker.”

Sam
looked back at Williams, who shrugged and muttered, “Weird.”

“What
about the backup generator?” she probed.

The
guard nodded. “That’s where I just came from. Someone set it on five-minute
delay. I can’t figure why.”

Sam
felt an involuntary shudder ripple like icy water across her back. “I’m sure it
was a mistake,” she said, as much for her benefit as for anyone else’s.

“Yeah,
I’m sure it’s nothing,” Williams added. “Nice of you to check things out,
though, since the little lady here gets so nervous.” He gave her a wink that
held no humor. “I thought she was going to shoot me.”

“I’m
making my rounds now,” the guard said without commenting on Sam’s gun. “I’ll
keep an eye out for anyone strange.”

“Are
you heading to the garage?” Sam asked, suddenly not wanting to be alone with
Williams.

The
security guard looked at her and nodded. “Seems like a good place to start.”

She
nodded, relieved. “I’ll go down with you. I’m leaving anyway.” She brushed past
Williams without a sideways glance and packed her things in record time.
Williams had always seemed somewhat envious of her. As Aaron had made clear, a
lot of people didn’t like her modus operandi.

Still,
she couldn’t understand why he’d been sneaking up on her. Lifting her chin, she
tightened her coat and considered what he’d said.

What
would he have done, though, if he’d reached her before the lights had come back
on?

Sam
turned her key in the lock of her front door, ready to collapse. It had been a
terrible day and a worse evening. It was only eight, but it felt like the
middle of the night. She pushed the door open and took one step inside to find
Nick and Rob standing in the kitchen.

She
turned to Rob. “What’s going on?”

Rob
shrugged and motioned to the living room with an elbow, his gaze on the stain
he was trying to get out of his shirt. “Derek’s real sick. Nick gave him
Tylenol. We made grilled cheese and soup for dinner.”

“Sick?”
she said, dropping her bag and coat at the kitchen table and hurrying into the
living room. Derek lay sprawled across the sofa, pale and languid. Sitting down
beside him, she tucked the blanket around him.

She
touched his forehead with the back of her hand and then pressed it against his
cheek. Despite his pallid color, he was burning up.

She
looked at Rob. “Why didn’t you call me?”

“We
did,” Rob said, scowling at her. “No one answered and then Nick came over. It’s
okay, though. He’s got a fever of one-oh-two. We checked,” he said, giving Nick
a sideways glance.

Nick
gave him a smile, but Sam didn’t respond. She should thank Nick for being
there. But
why
was he there? She was the one who should have been home to
take care of Derek. Turning her attention back to her nephew, she brushed his
hair off his face and whispered to him. “How are you?”

“I’m
fine,” he moaned.

“You
comfortable? You want something to drink?”

“I
ate some soup. I feel a little better, just tired.”

“Do
you want me to help you to bed?” she asked.