Count to Ten (10 page)

Solliday whistled softly. “It isn’t often they get pretty boys tossed into their cage.”

Mia swallowed a smirk as Zach sat down on his bed without another word. She turned soberly to Joel. “Joel, help me find who did this. When did you last see her?”

“Saturday night. Seven o’clock or so. She said there was a party at TriEpsilon that night but she needed to study. I told her to stay here, but she said if she did we’d... well, she wouldn’t study. She didn’t want to give her father the pleasure of seeing her fail.” He closed his eyes. “This is all my fault.”

“Why do you say that, Joel?” Solliday asked.

“She partied with me too much. I should have backed off like her father said.”

Either this kid was innocent or he was a damn fine actor. Mia was pretty sure it was the first one. “Did you hear from her at any time that night?”

“She IM’d me at eleven. She said she loved me,” he ended in a ragged whisper.

Mia glanced over at Solliday, saw they were in agreement over this kid. “Where were you all evening, Joel?”

“Here until eleven. I IM’d her back, then met some friends at the arcade.” He rattled off six names and she had little doubt they’d corroborate his story.

Mia hated to press him at this point, but it was necessary. “Did anybody else want to hurt her? Anybody following her? Anybody making her uncomfortable?”

He sagged against the wall, dropping his chin to his chest. “No. No. No.”

“One more question, Joel,” Solliday said. “When you didn’t hear from Caitlin all day yesterday or today, weren’t you worried?”

His head snapped up, fury in his eyes. “Of course I was. But I thought she’d gone home. I couldn’t call her at her parents’ house. She’d told them we were through. I figured she’d call when she could. When I didn’t see her in class this morning I asked around. Nobody had seen her. I called her parents, frantic. Left two messages on their answering machine. But they’d rather see me in jail than tell me that she was dead,” he finished bitterly. “God
damn
them.”

Under the circumstances, Mia could see his point of view.

Back at Solliday’s SUV she shook her head. “If I ever have kids, I’m not going to interfere.”

Solliday opened her door for her, as he’d been doing all day. “Never say never. I can understand both sides. Father wants the best for his daughter. Daughter wants to run her own life. I don’t think Joel’s involved.”

“Neither do I. I think our guy chose the Doughertys’ house. Either he stalked her there, or he happened on her and took advantage of the opportunity.”

“And Burnette could still be the real target.” He closed her door, then came around to his side. The engine was roaring to life when she heard his deep chuckle. “‘Bully named Bubba who wants to be your best buddy.’ It’s poetic. Can I use it?”

She smiled at him, oddly at peace for the moment. “Be my guest.”

It was quiet during the drive back to the precinct, both using the time to check their voice mail. He stopped the SUV next to her car. “Wow,” he said. “Nice.”

Mia looked at her little rebuilt Alfa Romeo fondly. “It’s my one splurge.” Then she slid down to the ground, turning to look at him. “Barrington made Caitlin’s ID official.”

“And the lab found an instant message in the cache of the Doughertys’ computer. Time corresponds with Joel’s story.”

“Then we make some progress. How about meeting at eight tomorrow in Spinnelli’s office? He has this thing for eight o’clock meetings.”

“I’ll see if I can get the lab report on the samples I took before then,” he said, “and I’ll meet you at your desk. The Doughertys left me a voice mail saying they were getting into O’Hare at midnight. We can talk to them after we’re done updating Spinnelli.”

“I’ll ask Jack to come to the meeting tomorrow, too. He can tell us what he found when he analyzed the -carpet. At least we’ll be able to better picture where things occurred.” She was quiet for a minute, then sighed. “I was seeing my partner go down.”

It took him a second. “You mean this morning when you were staring in the window? What happened that night?”

“We wanted these guys for a homicide in South Side. Getts and DuPree. It was a drug thing that got out of hand and they killed two women caught in the cross fire.” She sighed. “Anyway, we got a tip they were hiding out in an apartment, but they weren’t.”

“It was a setup.”

“Looks that way. But I saw them. And they shot Abe.”

“And you, too,” he said and her lips curved sadly.

“Just a scratch. While I was gone Spinnelli reassigned the case.”

“To the two guys he sent this afternoon. They stood back while you took DuPree.”

She smiled at the disbelief she heard in his voice. “It was... a gift, actually. They let me have the collar. They knew how much it meant to me.”

“I guess I understand that. Look, I’m sorry about this morning. It’s just that the jacket and the hat made you look...unsavory.”

“Unsavory?” she asked with a grin.

“Don’t laugh at my adjectives,” he said, his voice light.

“Okay.” She sobered. “My good jacket had a rip where the bullet hit my arm and it was nasty with blood.” Mostly Abe’s blood. “I have to get another paycheck before I can afford a new coat.” Her smile was self-mocking. “Spent all my cash on the car.”

One brow lifted. “What about the hat?”

“Sorry, the hat stays ’cause it’s comfy. Just hope it doesn’t rain. See you.”

She’d started to swing the door closed when he stopped its path. His eyes held sympathy, but they also held respect. “I’m sorry about your partner, Mitchell. And your father.” He leaned back, settling himself behind the wheel once again. “Eight o’clock.”

She closed his door and got into her own car, feeling calm and keyed up all at the same time. She started the engine, cursing the cold air the heater spit out at full blast. She still had to see Abe. What she’d say when she got there was -anybody’s guess.

Monday, November 27, 6:40 P.M.

“This was fun.” Brooke had nursed that one beer for an hour and a half.

“Told you it would do you good,” Devin said smugly.

Brooke’s heart fluttered, but she was determined the beer would not make her lose her good sense. Devin had laughed and joked, but no more with her than with the other teachers they’d met at the bar. Brooke was surprised just how many teachers gathered for happy hour. Evidently she wasn’t the only one stressed over the job.

“When do they all go home?”

He looked surprised. “It’s Monday night. We stay and watch the game.”

“The game.”

“
Monday Night Football.
The game. Please tell me you’re joking.”

“Nope. My family didn’t do sports.”

Devin slid down in his chair, getting comfortable. “So what did you do for fun?”

“Scrabble. Risk. Trivial Pursuit.”

His lips twitched. “And I thought I was a nerd.”

I don’t think so.
The thought left her light-headed and she mentally scrambled for words to untie her tongue. “The librarian says you’re using your math powers for evil.”

He threw back his head and laughed. “She’s just mad because I keep winning the pool.” He lifted a brow. “You should join the pool. I could make you a fortune.”

His laugh made her warm all over. “A fortune, huh?”

He shrugged. “Well, at least you’d only lose five bucks.”

She sighed. “Five bucks
is
a fortune.”

He looked philosophical. “Nobody gets rich being a teacher. You knew this, right?”

“
That
I knew.”

“But other stuff you didn’t?”

“I had dreams of helping kids learn to love books. It’s not working out that way.”

“Manny and the fire really has you worried, doesn’t it?”

“I hate the thought that I could be pushing him to do something terrible.”

Devin sighed. “Brooke. You can’t make anybody do what they don’t want to do. All of these boys have issues. For Manny, it’s fire. For Mike, it’s stealing.”

“What about Jeff?” she asked glumly and he rolled his eyes.

“Nobody understands Jeff. I’ve been trying to get through to that kid for months. There’s something cruel in him. Unfortunately, he’s one of the brightest kids I’ve met.”

Brooke blinked. “Jeff?”

“Yeah. Kid’s a math whiz. If he weren’t in juvie, he’d be getting scholarships.”

Something inside Brooke rallied. “His record will be sealed when he’s eighteen. None of this should affect his chances for getting into a good school.”

“Doesn’t matter. That kid’ll be arrested within a month of getting out of Hope.”

Brooke felt her temper flare. “How can you say that? How can you give up on him?”

Devin signaled the waitress for another beer, then looked back at her, regret in his eyes. “I didn’t give up on him. He’s the one giving up on himself. I’d give my eyeteeth to change it, but I’ve seen it too many times. So will you.”

“I don’t want to become jaded like...” She brought her temper to heel.

“Like me? Good. But be careful, Brooke. These boys are dangerous.” He lifted his eyes to the television mounted over the bar. “Looks like they’re calling for snow.”

It was an abrupt topic change, but effective. Brooke gathered her purse and coat. “I’m sorry, Devin. I was out of line.”

He looked sad. “No, you’re right. I am jaded. Unfortunately you have to be or they get to you. I find myself torn between wanting to save them and wanting to lock them all up forever. Sometimes they scare the hell out of me.” He eyed her coat. “You’re not staying for the game?”

She was starving, but Christmas shopping had taken a big bite out of her budget. No eating out until January. “Nope. Gotta get home and prepare tomorrow’s lesson.”

To her surprise he came to his feet and helped her with her coat. “It’s dark outside and the neighborhood’s not the best. I’ll walk you to your car.”

Monday, November 27, 7:45 P.M.

Reed grunted at the sudden sharp elbow in his gut. He glared down at his sister, who glared up with equal fervor. He dropped the plate back in the sink. “That hurt.”

“It was meant to. Sit down before I really get mean.” -Lauren gave him a mock glare. “We have an agreement. You don’t keep up your end very well. Sit down, Reed.”

Reed sat. “You pay the rent on time and take care of Beth. That’s enough.”

“The deal was cheap rent for babysitting and cleaning. Shut up, Reed.”

The cheap rent on the other side of Reed’s duplex allowed Lauren to work part-time while she took classes at the -university. Her flexible schedule meant Reed never had to worry about who was watching Beth when he had to work. In his mind, it was more than a win-win. Still, Lauren had her pride. “Did Beth ask you to take her shopping?”

Lauren laughed. “She did. Big man like you afraid of a few racks of clothes?”

“You see racks of clothes. I see monsters with price tags for fangs. So will you?”

“Of course. If you want, I’ll even pick up a few things you can put under the tree.”

Christmas. “I’ve never waited so long to do my shopping before. I just don’t know what she likes anymore.” And the knowledge left him... bereft somehow.

“She’s not a little girl anymore, Reed.”

“So you keep telling me.” He cast a wistful look up at the ceiling. Just a few months before, nothing could have pried Beth from the Monday night game. But now she always excused herself after dinner, saying she had studying to do. “I never thought growing up meant she’d start disliking all the things we used to like.”

Lauren shot him a sympathetic look. “You’ve had it easy. A girl who could tackle, jump, and check as well as any boy. But tomboys grow up and start liking frilly stuff.”

“Tomboy” made him think of Mia Mitchell and her “comfy” hat. “Not all tomboys. You should meet my new partner.”

Lauren’s eyes widened with surprise. “You hired a woman down at OFI?”

“No, she’s a homicide detective.”

She grimaced. “Ooh. Nasty.”

Reed thought about Caitlin Burnette, lying in the morgue. “You have no idea.”

“So tell me more. What’s the new chick like?”

Reed gave her a censorious look. “If I called her a chick, you’d hit me.”

Lauren grinned. “That’s what I love about you. You’re such a smart man. So dish.”

“She’s an athletic kind of woman.” Who’d been able to respond to every challenge thrown her way that day, whether it was a grieving father, a two-hundred-pound crackhead, or an arrogant baby lawyer. She’d dealt. Very capably, in fact. “That’s all.”

Lauren rolled her eyes. “That’s all. So what’s her name?”

“Mitchell.”

Again her eyes rolled. “Her
first
name.”

“Mia.” And he found he liked the sound of it. It suited her. “She’s a real pistol.”

“And? Is she a blonde, brunette, redhead? Short, tall?”

It was his turn to roll his eyes. “A blonde. And small.” The top of her head barely reached his shoulder. His -shoulder twitched as the image flashed into his mind of her blond head resting there.
Like that would ever happen.
Somehow he couldn’t see Mia Mitchell leaning on anyone. That the thought had even crossed his mind was disturbing in and of itself.
Don’t even consider going there, Solliday. She’s not for you.