Forgotten Place (13 page)

This time, my glance was a glare.  "I'd
have to say I wouldn't like it, Amy.  I wouldn't like it one
bit."

In his defense, Johnny spoke cryptic
words.  "Then again, Journey wasn't the screwed up partner in
the relationship.  She actually wanted to spend time with
friends and be social."

Amy sighed.  "So I'd love to believe,
but to be honest, she has her issues too, Commander Orion." 
The timer buzzed before she could continue.  "That's it,
Helen.  We're all done for the day.  I'll let you get
dressed now.  I've got some other patient's upstairs that I
need to see, so if you don't need anything else, see you
tomorrow.  Same bat time, same bat place."

She had the decency to stand behind me
holding a towel while the water drained.  I slipped it under
my arms and wrapped it around those bony ribs I was determined to
never let Johnny see again and waited while the water drained and
Amy could unseal the door on the whirlpool.

The second she left the room, I knew.

"Helen –"

"Don't, Johnny.  I might be stuck with
your lousy company until I can convince you that I'm not trying to
kill myself, but I don't have to listen to you excuse what you're
doing to me."

"I only wanted to ask if you feel up to
whatever you wanted to do in the garage.  You sound
tired.  I thought maybe you'd rather go home and rest."

"What will make me feel better is anything
that makes me forget for ten minutes that I'm being held prisoner
by a madman."

He kept his distance while I walked through
the crime scene.  I stopped periodically and relived the
memory with my eyes closed. 

Scream.  Call for backup. 
Weapon.  Moving to position.  I pressed my back up
against the pylon exactly as I had yesterday morning.

"Let me use your phone.  I want to call
Dev."

"You have his number?"

"I can get it from division."

Johnny dangled the phone in front of
me.  "Do your thing, Doc."

Moments later, Devlin answered his cell
phone. 

"It's Helen."

"Hey... how are you?"

I glanced at Orion and
wondered what lie he told to elicit the cooperation of those in a
position to help me.  "I'm
fine
, perfectly fine.  Listen,
I'm in the parking garage reviewing what I saw yesterday.  Is
Journey awake?"

"Uh..."

"You can't answer?"

"This Dr. Waters came in to see her this
morning and gave her the test results from his examination of her
vocal chords."

"He thinks I'm right, doesn't he?"

"Uh-huh."

I blew out a slow breath.  "Good to
know, but I really hoped I was wrong, Dev.  It complicates
things.  Journey probably won't remember what this guy said to
her until she feels safe."

"Nothing is gonna happen while I'm
here."

"I meant more than physically safe. 
Catching the man who attacked her might be a good first step in
feeling emotionally secure again.  Can you ask her some
questions for me?"

"Sure."

"How tall is she?"

I waited and listened.

"Five two."

I closed my eyes and envisioned the attack
again.  "Was she wearing heels yesterday morning?"

"Two inches, she says.  Writes."

"So five four in her shoes.  Her
attacker was maybe a head taller than that.  Eight
inches?"

"Sounds reasonable."

"That's not right," I shook my head, as if
the jarring motion would put the proper perspective into my mind's
eye.  "His chin was partially obscured by the back of her
head.  Let's say six inches on the conservative side. 
That makes him what?  Five ten?"

"Shorter than you."

"I wish I'd been that close, Devlin.  I
guess I could come up to her room and mimic the position they were
in.  I don't think that would be very good for her emotional
state right now."

"Helen, if your estimate is accurate, think
about it.  Remember the conversation we had yesterday about
height as an advantage?"

"Yeah.  He's shorter than the average
guy running around the streets of Darkwater Bay.  I wonder
what Linder's height is."

"I'd ask, but uh..."

"The mere suggestion that we suspected him
yesterday put an end to our communication.  When is your
relief coming in this morning?"

"Negative on that one, Helen."

"You're staying with her indefinitely?"

"A couple of her friends are coming to spend
the evening with her.  Didn't Orion tell you the plan?"

Which plan was the salient question. 
He had no qualms about reiterating my confinement.  "Refresh
my memory."

"We're meeting at your place again
tonight.  Carpenter is coming with whatever he can dig up on
the info from his office.  Those of you conducting interviews
will share the information over dinner.  Until then, I'm right
here, and I'll be back just as soon as we're done talking."

"I'm assuming that your reassurances are for
Journey's benefit and not mine."

Devlin chuckled.  "I have it on high
authority that you're in good hands."

To my way of thinking, unless he heard it
from me, there was no such higher authority.  I certainly
didn't agree with what was forced on me, but it was pointless to
argue.  Curiosity being my bane, I asked, "Oh?  And who
might that be?"

"Chris Darnell."

Traitors.  The whole damned lot of
them.  "I guess we'll talk over dinner.  If I think of
anything else, I'll give you a call later – provided I earn back my
telephone privileges."

"He's worried about you.  Can't fault
the guy for that."

"I don't suppose
you
could."

The phone was shoved quickly back into
Orion's hand.

"Well?"

"Well what?" I snapped.

"Did your walk through make you remember any
important details?"

"Yeah," I said.  "Whoever attacked
Journey Ireland wasn't a behemoth like the rest of you cretins in
this city.  That ought to narrow the suspect pool
tremendously.  We're looking for the one short guy in the
whole..."  Another image flashed through my head.  His
hands.  I saw the way he held the knife, which wasn't
remarkable.  The age of the hands were a different
matter.  At least that was how I remembered it.

"What?"

I grabbed one of Johnny's hands and turned
it palm down.

"Doc, if you want to hold hands, all you had
to do was ask."

"Shut up and let me think."

Did I even remember how old Orion said he
was?  I stared at the corded veins, weathered knuckles and
strong, blunt fingernails.  My eyes closed for reflection on
the memory without any distracting stimuli.  Knuckles were
slightly oversized, arthritic perhaps?  The grooves in loose
skin were deeper, the veins more distended by loss of turgor in the
surrounding skin and decreased fatty tissue.  The hand around
Journey's waist was marked with brown, circular discolorations.

My eyes popped open.  I dropped his
hand.  "How old did you say you are?"

"Forty-four on Saturday."

"Last Saturday?"

"Next.  Is that important, or am I now
a suspect in this crime?"

I shook my head.  "It's nothing."

"I find that impossible to believe. 
Tell me what you remembered.  Don't think I can't tell when
you're holding something back, or flat out lying.  I've seen
it from you often enough to know, Doc."

"When I'm ready to share, I'll do it with
the group.  Take me home.  I need to be alone."

Chapter 11

He dropped Helen off at the house and took
her car after dead bolting the doors.  Since the phones were
all tucked away in the wheel well of the Expedition, and only
enough pain medication had been left for one dose, Johnny was
relatively sure that Helen would abide by the rules while he met
Crevan for the scheduled chat with Samantha Wine.

Doc wanted to be alone.

The irony was that Johnny knew he needed the
break more than she did.  The unending fight over basic needs
was one thing.  Her near constant expression of hatred crushed
the tiniest bit of hope he'd held for the past two months. 
Somehow in the past fifteen hours, Johnny found himself transformed
into an enormous raw nerve.

Crevan was waiting outside
the
Sync!
high-rise in Darkwater proper when he parked the
SUV. 

"You look like you've had better days. 
Are you still sure this is the way to go with Helen, Johnny?"

"I should've never let her push me out in
the first place," Johnny said.  "She ate this morning, and
last night when she woke up and took more of that stupid narcotic
she's been eating like candy instead of dealing with what happened
to her."

"Is she home alone?"

"I thought about calling Winslow to stay
with her, but I figured they'd form some kind of solidarity based
on oppression of women by men for millions of years, and the next
thing you know, she'll be hiding out at Maya's starving herself to
death."

"So she doesn't appreciate the effort you're
making."

Johnny's jaw set in a hard line.  "She
hates my guts.  I actually hid her guns last night because I
got the distinct impression she might use one of them on me."

"She'd never do that, Johnny.  I know
she's upset, but I can't believe she really stopped caring about
you."

"Believe it."  He jerked the lobby door
open.  "I'm to the point where I'm as eager for her to recover
as she is.  I don't know how men do it."

"Do it?"

"Put up with a woman who hates them."

"She doesn't hate you."

"I'm pretty sure you're wrong.  She
sure as hell says it enough.  Anyway, let's get this interview
done before she decides she'd rather burn the damn house down than
see me again."

Samantha Wine was about what Johnny expected
when an editorial assistant escorted them into her office. 
She was Doc only younger, smaller and meatier.  Same attitude,
same ball-breaking-I-don't-need-no-stinking-man aura.

She lit a long, slim cigarette, dragged a
mouth full of smoke no deeper than the back of her tongue and
exhaled a plume across the desk into Crevan's face.  "You're
Belle's soon to be ex, right?"

Johnny's patience for shenanigans was beyond
worn thin.  One long arm reached over the desk and plucked the
cigarette from her fingers and crushed it in an overflowing ash
tray.  "Save yourself some money, sweetheart.  Either
learn to inhale or stop wasting your hard earned cash on a cosmetic
bad habit.  It doesn't make you look tough, no matter what you
think."

She glared and lit another.  "You
always a sexist macho pig, Commander Orion?"

"Pretty much, yeah.  Show some
goddamned respect.  We're trying to find out who's trying to
kill this alleged best friend of yours."  He turned toward
Crevan.  "What do you think?  Does she strike you as
capable of empathy toward another human being?"

Johnny hadn't noticed the uncomfortable
cloak that had fallen over Crevan until he looked.  He
frowned.  Someone turned the world on its ear while he wasn't
looking.

"You know Belle professionally?"

Ah.  Made sense.  The divorce had
remained a touchy subject for Crevan.  Johnny finally
understood why after recent events with Helen.  Shit, they
weren't even married.  He could only imagine what his friend
was enduring.

"Byline only.  I recognized the
name.  There aren't a lot of Conall's running around the
city.  As for my empathy toward Journey, she has more than
that, Commander Orion.  She has my loyalty as well.  Amy
called and said you're finally looking at Linder for something he
won't be able to weasel his way out of.  Please.  Make my
day and tell me its true."

Johnny pulled a gold case from his breast
pocket and procured a real cigarette.  He lit it and inhaled
deeply.  Stress and frustration blasted from his
nostrils.  "Funny thing, Ms. Wine.  This is where police
work differs from what reporters do.  We're required to have
evidence before we can act on something, where as you all pretty
much make any old bullshit up that you please and cross your
fingers that it's too much bother for someone to file a lawsuit for
libel."

She cocked her head to one side.  "Did
I tell you it was all right to smoke in my office?"

"I didn't ask.  Let's cut the crap,
shall we?  What is it that James Linder did that's so worthy
of being a person of interest in the attempted murder of your best
gal pal?"

Her lips pursed in a moue of disgust. 
"Are you serious?"

"Quite," smoke hissed through his clenched
teeth.

"God, you guys really are as incompetent as
can be, aren't you?  I'm a fucking reporter and even I know
about his criminal record."

"Watch your mouth," Johnny growled. 
"And paying hookers to change your dirty diapers is a far cry from
cutting a woman's throat."  He savored the look of shock on
Sam's face before charging onward.  "Didn't get that from a
basic rap sheet anybody with a credit card and an internet
connection can find, did you, Sam?"

She was the one to crush out her smoke this
time.  "Seriously?  That's what he wanted from the
prostitutes?"

Johnny was on a roll with inspiration. 
"You tell me.  Or didn't Journey give you the details of which
sex act he demanded before she dumped his sorry ass?"

She shook her head.  The tough bravado
melted away to something decidedly more vulnerable.  "My
God.  What's wrong with that man?  Journey is…"

"The exact opposite of you?" Crevan
asked.

Sam nodded.  "Not that I'd go for that
kinky junk any more than she did, but sheesh!  How much
garbage should one woman have to face in her life?"