Forgotten Place (36 page)

I clutched my small purse in a white knuckle
grip and stepped forward.  Thoughts raced through my brain
that ranged from irritable snarls at Johnny for suggesting I speak,
to a confession that included every single reason why their honor
was little more than an abomination.  What came from my throat
was quite different.

"Some of you I know.  Many of you I do
not know.  What I believe should have happened tonight is that
the honors bestowed on a few men and women who join me here, should
belong to everyone who is committed to serving and protecting the
people of Darkwater Bay.  It is your efforts every day, from
those that seem small and routine, to those that change and save
lives, that should be honored.  I believe that without the
dedication each of you shows every day that nothing anyone standing
beside me tonight could've been accomplished.  I honor you,
your commitment, your knowledge, your excellence.  Thank you
for allowing me to be part of the good work you do in this
city."

During whistles and thunderous applause for
what I would later learn was deemed the most gracious speech anyone
had heard from an officer being decorated for exemplary duty, I
noticed a change in the spirit of three men at our table.  It
started with Devlin reaching for his cell phone, followed by Ned,
then Johnny.  His eyes met mine, sober and grim.

I turned in time to see Crevan staring at
the screen on his telephone as well.  Damn Johnny for not
giving my iPhone back yet!  I stepped away from the podium and
snatched the device from his hand.

A single line of text
spanned the screen. 
Storm in custody
at Downey.

Crevan spoke before I had the chance. 
"Lou, we've got to go."

Other divisions were clamoring to hear from
their detectives, so slipping away and back to our table with
Shelly in tow wasn't difficult.  Johnny was speaking to
Zack. 

"If you'd get her home, I'd appreciate
it."

Hell no!  "Johnny, I'm going –"

"He meant me, Ms. Eriksson," Marci addressed
me directly for the first time.

"We'll go talk to him, Doc.  You and
me.  Everyone else, be ready to leave at a moment's
notice.  Zack, depending on what Doc can wring out of him, we
might need that warrant we discussed earlier."

"What can I do?" Maya asked.

I grinned at her.  "Party like it's
1999.  We've managed to keep them off your table this time,
Maya."

Johnny shook his head and laughed.
 "You might want to have that grave digger of yours on
standby.  I'd love it after all these years if we could find
our missing body, Dr. Winslow.  An actual cause of death would
be even better."

"Are you sure you don't want us at Downey?"
Devlin asked.

"No," I said.  "What happens next is
dependent on the outcome of the interview.  No sense in
missing dessert because of this.  We'll call if we need
you.  Johnny, do you have my car?"

He nodded.

"Let's go."

Johnny followed me to the coat room and
plucked the wrap I'd worn out of hundreds of coats.  "Home to
change first?" he asked after draping it over my shoulders.

"I can't show up to question Storm looking
like this."

"Figured you'd say that."

"Orion?"

"Aw, we're not back to that again, are
we?"

I shook my head.  "Sorry.  Just
trying to get my head back into the case."

His hands anchored my hips and stepped me
close enough to be enveloped by his heat.  "Helen, we need to
talk about what happened in there tonight."

"Right now?  The case is –"

His head dipped quickly to steal a soft
kiss.

"What was that for?" I whispered in a
throaty rasp.

"You wished me a happy birthday.  Now
I've had one."

"Johnny," my eyes darted away, downward
toward anything but the emotion brimming in his eyes.  He
cupped my chin and refused to let me avoid the truth.

"Tell me."

Those guileless blue eyes sucked me into a
universe of infinite possibility.  "I don't hate you," I
said.

"And?"

"I'm sorry I said it."

"Doc... stop hedging.  What else?"

"I have missed you."

"You're starting to try my infinite
patience.  Say it."

"I'd rather wait until we can –"

He kissed me again, slow and thorough, until
my knees buckled and the only thing that kept me from slithering to
the floor were the strong arms around me.  "Tell me," he
whispered.  "Tell me right now."

"You do know me."

"I was talking about something I don't
already know for certain."

Fear.  It is my curse.

"We need to go."

"I need something else at the moment. 
Why are you so afraid of this, Helen?  Haven't I proven to you
that I will never hurt you, never betray your confidence, protect
you in any way that I can?"

"Yes."

"Tell me.  It's the one thing I can't
know until I hear you say it."  Johnny pressed his lips to my
forehead.  "I need to hear you say it, Helen."

Tiny tears leaked from my eyes.  I
needed it too.  "I love you, Johnny."

Chapter 32

The ride home was a silent one, quiet with
relief, still with the sense that one battle had truly ended and a
united front was finally achieved.  Johnny only insisted on
holding my hand.  He followed me into my dressing room and
helped unfasten the gown that would forever be my favorite, no
matter where in the world I went.

No, I didn't clarify that point, didn't
explain that loving him changed nothing.  When my work in
Darkwater Bay was done, it would still be time for me to
leave.  To say so now would only take away the peace that he
deserved to feel after everything he'd done for me. 

I stepped out of the dress and handed it to
him.  When the underclothing disappeared, Johnny's fingers
slipped between the bones of my ribcage.  "We've got a bit of
work left to be done, eh, sweetheart?"

"We'll get there," I stilled his hand. 
"Johnny, we need to get to Downey Division.  Go change your
clothes."

He called through the open door to his
dressing room.  "Are you going to pretend that he alone can
help you close the case of what really happened to Chief
McNamara?"

"No," I tugged a loose charcoal cashmere
turtleneck sweater over my head and pulled on a pair of grey
leggings.  "I thought I'd go in with what I know, that
McNamara was slaughtered and that we have evidence that Billy
Withers was framed for the murder."

Johnny popped his head back into the
dressing room while I tugged on a pair of black knee-high suede
boots. 

"Do we have evidence that Billy wasn't
involved in this?"

"Please.  Have you met him?  He's
as gentle as a lamb.  I'm not required to be honest with Riley
Storm.  He just has to believe that I believe what I'm saying,
and I do.  I know for a fact that Billy isn't capable of such
an atrocity, Johnny.  Maya told me tonight that he didn't
finish his training because it was simply too disturbing for
him."

"But he can stand the autopsy process? 
Doc, that doesn't make sense."

"During an autopsy, they're looking for the
truth, trying to help make sure that no one else suffers the way
our victims have.  It might seem like a subtle distinction to
you, but I certainly get it."

His hands tangled in the soft folds of my
sweater and pulled me close.  "Did I happen to mention tonight
that I think you're beautiful?"

I clasped my hair behind my head into a
ponytail secured by my fingers and twisted out of his grip. 
"Let me get my hair out of the way and we can head over to
Downey."

Johnny laughed and followed me into the
bathroom where I found a scrunchie to hold my hair back.  "I
think you're changing the subject on purpose."

"And I think it's a very bad idea to drag my
head out of this case, no matter how much you want to do it,
Johnny.  Riley Storm could know exactly who killed both
McNamara and Southerby.  If it's Lowe, we're probably screwed,
because he'll want some type of leniency on the other murders if he
fingers Datello.  Knowing how you and I feel about that, it
might be too tempting you know?"

"You'd go along with a reduced sentence to
get Danny behind bars?"

"Such deals are made all the time. 
Don't be naïve.  You have to take into consideration that
Datello is more than a little bit culpable for the general state of
crime in this city, and bears a hell of a lot of responsibility in
what Jerry Lowe did too, making sure he got into a position that
further protected his sick hobby."

"Do you think you can sufficiently scare
Storm into cooperating?"

"I doubt it.  This is run number one at
him.  Maya says we've got enough on him for McNamara's death
to make the whole shebang stick.  He can either play ball or
he can be prosecuted for all of it, and look like he acted
alone.  He has to believe I don't give a damn if that's the
best I can do right now."

"But?"

I finished adjusting my hair and turned
around to lean against the bathroom vanity.  I grinned, "But
Riley knows that if he's incarcerated, his days are numbered. 
You don't take a secret like that to prison.  You take it to
your grave."

"You're going to offer to protect him."

"I'm going to remind him that our protection
is the only thing that will keep him alive.  McNamara is the
tip of the iceberg where his mishandled cases are concerned. 
I wonder if he'd like to see every single death he certified
exhumed for reexamination?"

"God help the poor sap."

"Even if we couldn't convict him for
anything, the public cry of outrage at how he lied would be enough
to destroy him, if not compel some poor grieving widow to mow him
down with her car, or one of his so-called-pals on the golf course
to take a nine iron to his head."

"I'd pick the one iron," Johnny said. 
"It's harder and longer than the nine."

"Whatever.  You get my point.  His
life as he knew it is over either way.  This will follow him
everywhere.  No amount of money will make it go away, and he
needs to understand that he can change his name and run, but I'll
follow him and make sure people know what he's capable of."

Johnny reached out with one hand and
caressed my cheek.  "Remind me never to get on your bad
side."

At Downey Division, Hal Vickers was on duty
covering the detective squad.  He smiled warmly when he saw
me.  "I wondered who'd come flying over here from the big
party to talk to Dr. Storm.  I'm warning you Helen, he is not
a happy camper tonight."

"Johnny," I murmured, "would you be content
to observe this interrogation from the observation room?  I
think the presence of OSI at this point will make Riley aware that
we're looking at a far broader scope than Harry McNamara's
murder."

"I wouldn't be content to observe, but I
can't disagree with you."

"Don't worry.  I know what I'm
doing."  If anybody should understand it, Johnny should. 
Riley Storm was about to butt heads and match wits with someone
trained in thinking like a criminal from birth. 

I felt the urge to channel my inner Dad and
let his wisdom guide the interview.  It wasn't a half bad
idea.

"I don't like the notion of you talking to
this guy alone, Doc."

"I won't be.  Vickers is going to sit
in."

"I am?"

I nodded.  "Can you bring him up to the
interview room?  Make sure he's still cuffed.  The
shackle on the table will do nicely for now.  Then join Johnny
and me in observation.  I want to have a good look at his
comfort level before we talk to him."

"You wanna make him anxious," Hal grinned
broadly.  "I like it.  Be back with the creep in a
jiffy."

I hooked my arm through Johnny's and walked
him to the observation room.  "I should give you fair warning
right now, Johnny.  I will absolutely say or do anything to
coerce this man into telling me what I need to know."

"That's pretty much standard operating
procedure, isn't it?"

My eyes rose.  "I will say or do
anything.  I will be my father's child in that room,
Johnny.  You might hear lies come out of my mouth that make
you doubt who I really am."

The backs of his fingers stroked my
cheek.  "Now why would you ever believe that?  You
haven't changed my opinion with a single lie you've told so far,
Doc."

"You're a freak."

"I prefer human lie detector.  You have
your gifts; I have mine.  Fortunately for you, I can also
understand the motives behind the stories you tell with such ease,
and I don't happen to disagree with them."

"Yet," I muttered.

"Ah, there the old bastard is," Johnny
jerked his head toward the two-way mirror.  "He's still plenty
smug, Helen."

"Good.  I hope that means Jerry Lowe
has lulled him into a state of false security."

"The cuffs might've tipped him off that this
isn't the friendliest of conversations."

Johnny flipped on the intercom so we could
hear what was said.

I moved toward the window and watched Dr.
Storm's haughty demeanor when Vickers uncuffed one wrist and
attached it to the metal loop on the table.  He muttered
something, and Storm's eyes rose to the mirror.  "I greatly
look forward to it," he said.

"Looks a lot younger than fifty-five,
doesn't he?"  Only the tiniest bits of silver gray peppered
his temples.  The rest of his hair was thick and jet
black.  A single swath of it fell stubbornly over one
eye.  And speaking of his eyes, even from the distance we
stood and the obscurity of the darkened glass, I could almost count
the long lashes and see every fleck of green and gold in the
vibrant depths.  Riley Storm was not afraid.