Justice in the Shadows (11 page)

Sandy threaded her way through the crowd clustered around the bar for last call and walked into the dark recesses of the rear. She dropped into the seat across from Frye at a tiny back table. “Funny place for a meeting, unless you’re looking to get laid. You looking for some action? Cause I’m free now, thanks to you.”

Rebecca ignored the taunts. Sandy’s anger was one thing she counted on, and she had a feeling it was a big part of what kept Sandy from being swallowed by the street. “You get rid of your
visitor?
“

“What do you think? I left him at my place?” Sandy ried not to think about where Mitchell had gone, what she was doing, who she might be with. “You gonna be calling all the time now? It cramps my style.”

“You’re not supposed to have a
style
any longer, remember?” Every night as she drove the streets, Rebecca watched the young girls sell their bodies to survive, knowing there was nothing she could do to change their fates. She tried, and would probably keep trying—scanning the faces, looking for likenesses to the blurred images on the missing persons bulletins, taking those she could convince to leave the life to shelters or women centers—but it was a never-ending battle doomed to failure. Every day there were more of them. Why Sandy meant more to her that any of the others, she couldn’t say. “I have an investment in you, and I expect you to take care of yourself.”

“I’ve managed just fine so far.”

“Yeah—that new scar on your forehead is proof of that. Someone beat the living hell out of you, didn’t they?”

“It was nothing. I could have handled that even if Dell—” Sandy clamped her jaws shut.
Shit!

Rebecca’s eyes narrowed. “What does Mitchell have to do with it?”

“Nothing.”

“Her life is on the line now, Sandy. Don’t fuck with me, I don’t have time.” Rebecca’s tone was harsh, not with anger, but worry.
What in hell have I missed?

“A guy was roughing me up. Dell stopped him.”

“Stopped him how?”

“Like cops do—she took the fucker down and arrested him. She got into trouble for it, too—because she pulled her gun and got rough or something.”

And the pieces tumbled into place. Mitchell on suspension. Mitchell undergoing counseling—mandatory in situations like that. Catherine and Mitchell—Catherine who must know all about it.
How much
hasn’t
Catherine told me?

“Okay,” Rebecca said quietly. “So let’s talk business. I need you to find an Asian girl named Lucy.”

“Lucy what?”

“No last name—she’s about sixteen, and she might work for Angel Rivera.”

“Angel’s a mean pimp.” Sandy’s eyes grew hard. “He hooks his girls on smack to keep them working.”

“I know that,” Rebecca said, her anger barely contained.
And I’d love to put him away, or kick the crap out of him, but he always manages to slip through some crack in the system.
“I tried showing the picture of the girl from the video around Chinatown. I thought maybe she was a runway and someone might know her.” Four hours in and out of every bodega and restaurant in a ten-block area and one slim lead to show for it. “No one knew her, but someone said they thought maybe she was a friend of this Lucy.”

“That’s kinda thin, don’t you think?”

“It’s what I’ve got.” Roberta looked at her watch. “Where’s Mitchell now?”

That twist of pain was unexpected and Sandy jerked involuntarily. To cover her surprise, she laughed harshly. “How should I know? You’re the one told me to stay away from her, remember?”

“Things have changed.” Rebecca leaned forward intently. “She’s good, but she’s a novice. I need you to watch her back.”

“So what do you want me to do? Move in with her?”

“If you have to.”

Sandy stood. “You know something, Frye? You use people.”

Rebecca made no reply and Sandy walked away.

You use people.

It wasn’t the first time she’d heard it, although not quite as honestly as Sandy put it. Jill had complained that Rebecca put the job first and gave her what was left. Which was never enough. Rebecca thought of Catherine, and how much she needed her. How she so often came to Catherine, weary and drained, and let Catherine comfort her with her body and her tender soul.
I use her, too.

———

Catherine rarely slept deeply when Rebecca was working. She rolled over and opened her eyes, having been roused by a soft noise in the darkened room.

“Rebecca?”

“I’m sorry. I was trying to be quiet.” Rebecca padded across the floor, slipped naked into bed, and buried her face in the sweet softness of her hair.

“Everything all right?”

“Mmm. I love you so much.”

Catherine heard the faint catch in her lover’s voice. “Darling? Did something happen?”

“No, I’m just beat.” Rebecca took a long breath. She wasn’t going to burden Catherine with more of her guilt.

Catherine hesitated, knowing there was more. She always knew. She kissed Rebecca’s forehead, then her eyelids, then finally her mouth. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”

“Catherine,” Rebecca whispered
. I need you so much. I don’t know if I could keep going…

“What, darling?”

“I…you’re the best thing in my life. The most important thing.” Rebecca smoothed her fingers over Catherine’s cheek, along her neck, and then lowered her head to kiss Catherine’s breast just above her heart. “I just want you to know that.”

“I love you.” Catherine held Rebecca tightly, letting that be enough.

———

Michael rose carefully. The clock read five-thirty. The side of the bed where Sloan had lain was cold.

She went into the bathroom, splashed cold water on her face, then looked into the mirror for the first time since the accident. She blinked, drew a shaky breath, blinked again.

Thank god Sarah washed my hair because the rest of me is a fright.

With horrific clarity, she abruptly recalled the conversation with Sarah.

Car accident…skull fracture…broken ribs…bruised kidney.

 Someone had tried to kill Sloan, and
she
had been hurt instead.

“My God…”

Michael made her way carefully to the guest room at the opposite end of the loft and halted at the door. “Sarah?”

A light came on, and Sarah was instantly by her side.

“Michael? What is it? Are you sick?”

“Where’s Sloan?”

“I…what?” Sarah took Michael’s hand. “You should go back to bed. You’re white as a sheet.”

Michael looked beyond Sarah to Jason, who was just tying his sweat pants. “Where is she, Jason?”

He looked helplessly at Michael. “She said she was going to check on some data for Rebecca.”

“You left her alone?” Michael’s voice rose with anger and fear. “What were you
thinking?
Someone tried to
kill
her.” Michael’s vision dimmed and a wave of pain rolled through her head and flooded her consciousness. She swayed and Sarah grabbed her arm.

“Michael. Sit down.”

“I’m
fine.
“ Nevertheless, Michael allowed Sarah to lead her to the bed. “I’m sorry.” She lifted anguished eyes to Sarah and Jason, who stood side by side a few feet away, both looking distraught.

“Ah, hell,” Jason muttered, looking to Sarah for guidance.

Michael’s voice cut through the air. “
Tell
me. What?”

“She was working on finding the leak in the department—maybe she found it.”

“Someone tried to kill her and almost killed
me
instead. Don’t you realize what she’ll do? God, she’ll be crazy.”  Michael’s voice was cold and eerily flat. “Find her, Jason. You find her right now and bring her home.”

———

Six a.m. Quitting time.

Sandy trudged up the dark narrow stairwell to the third floor on autopilot. She unlocked her apartment door, stepped inside, and stared at the woman sitting on the side of her bed. For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then Sandy found her voice.

“What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to say I was sorry for being an asshole.”

“Okay. You said it.”

Mitchell curled her fingers over her knees to hide the shakes. She was so fucking tired. “I didn’t have any right to come down on you for leaving last night. I was…I was a little crazy.”

“You were a
lot
crazy if you think Frye and I have anything going on.”

“I know. I just…” Mitchell drew a long breath. “I was wrong. I’m sorry.”

When Mitchell started to rise, Sandy put a hand on her thigh, stopping her. “I’m sorry for leaving you in a state. I didn’t want to.”

Mitchell blushed. “Not your fault.”

“Oh, yeah?” Sandy bumped Mitchell’s shoulder with hers. “
I
thought it was.”

“I was so hot for you,” Mitchell whispered, glancing at Sandy with a half turn of her head. “I couldn’t think straight. I didn’t know what the fuck I was saying.”

“
Was
hot for me?”

“Am.” Mitchell took Sandy’s hand, caressed it gently. “Have been for quite a while.”

“Same here.” Sandy leaned her head on Mitchell’s shoulder. “You wanna stay?”

“Yeah. I’d like that.”

Silently, they both rose, undressing slowly, watching each other in the breaking dawn light. Sandy lifted the covers and slid under, then held them open for Mitchell. The bed was narrow, and they turned to face one another, their bodies lightly touching. Mitchell rested her hand softly on Sandy’s hip. Sandy nestled her face close to Mitchell’s on the pillow.

“Is it okay if we just…” Sandy shivered. She’d never been this way with anyone. “Is just sleeping okay for now?”

“It’s fine.” Mitchell’s body was doing the all-over tingle thing again, and she was wet. But that was okay. It was good, great. Perfect. “You’re really beautiful, you know.”

“Dell,” Sandy said gently. “You are such a blockhead.”

Carefully, Mitchell inched forward and kissed Sandy, a tender whisper of lips brushing lightly. “I know. But you’re still beautiful.”

Catherine lifted the phone mid-way through the second ring. “Hello?...Yes, she’s right here.” She extended the receiver to Rebecca. “It’s Jason.”

“Sorry, Rebecca…we can’t seem to find Sloan.”

Rebecca sat up, instantly alert. “I’ll be right over.”

———

Jason, unshaven in wrinkled clothes, looked up hopefully as Rebecca walked into the central office area just after eight a.m. “Anything?”

“Nothing.” Rebecca had never seen him with a hair out of place, even when he’d been lying on the floor with his hands cuffed behind his back, Mitchell’s knee between his shoulder blades.

“I should have realized she’d go after whoever hurt Michael on her own. Michael is…everything to her.”

Rebecca understood that. That’s what she would do if anyone hurt Catherine. “It’s my fault. Not yours.”

“I know her bes—”

He cocked his head, listening to the sound of the elevator descending to the first floor, then the slow steady whir of the gears reversing. Together, he and Rebecca watched as the double-wide doors slid soundlessly open.

Sloan’s eyes were rimmed with dark shadows, her cheeks gaunt, her clothes beyond creased. Her shoulders sagged, and her step was unsteady.

“You hurt?” Rebecca asked sharply.

Sloan shook her head and sat heavily into the nearest chair. “I got him.”

Jesus, god.
Rebecca’s body turned to ice. “Who?”

“Captain John William Henry.”

Rebecca’s face never changed expression but her stomach heaved. With effort, she kept her voice even. “What did you do?”

Sloan looked at her, her eyes slightly unfocused. “I sat across the street with my gun in my lap, locked and loaded, all night. Knew he’d be out early.”

Jason jumped to his feet. “Sloan, don’t say anything else! I’m calling Jack Goldberg.”

Sloan sat up straighter. “I don’t need an attorney.”

“Are you willing to talk to me without an attorney, Sloan?” Rebecca was quiet, nonthreatening, and she hadn’t moved an inch since Sloan arrived.

“No, she isn’t,” Jason said adamantly.

“I didn’t do anything.” Sloan leaned her head back and stared at the ceiling. “He came out, he got in his car, he drove away.”

“That’s it?” Rebecca asked.

Sloan nodded.

“You carrying now?”

Again Sloan nodded.

Rebecca walked to her and extended her hand. “Give me you weapon.”

After a long moment, Sloan complied.

“Jason,” Rebecca said, ejecting the clip and putting it along with the automatic in her pocket, “take her upstairs and see that she stays there.”

“You can’t do that. This guy is
mine.
“ Sloan jumped up, her eyes suddenly bright.

“Get her out of here, Jason.” Rebecca’s voice was flat and hard. “Now.”

Rebecca remained motionless until Jason and Sloan disappeared into the elevator.
Captain Henry. And Sloan almost took him out. Christ, how many more ways can I screw up this case.

———

Mitchell was awakened by a persistent pulse of pleasure centered in her left breast. Raising her head, she focused on the blond head bent over her chest and watched Sandy suck her nipple between her lips.

“Ahh, jeez Sandy.” Mitchell’s head dropped back and she closed her eyes again. “What are you doing?”

“I couldn’t sleep,” Sandy whispered, stretched out on top of Mitchell, one thigh between hers. “And I couldn’t stand to just look any longer.”

Eyes still closed, Mitchell trailed her fingers along Sandy’s side, brushing the curve of her bare breast. “Feels good. So good.”

“Mmm.”

Sandy shifted, nestling her own breast in Mitchell’s palm. Her voice was soft as she said, “You can touch me now.”

Ever so carefully Mitchell ran her fingertips over the gentle swell of silken skin, thumbing lightly back and forth across the erect nipple. Sandy made a small mewling sound.

“Okay?” Mitchell asked, opening her eyes and pushing up against the pillows.

Sandy nodded, lids half closed, as she rocked slowly against Mitchell’s leg. “You can do it…harder.”

“You sure?” Mitchell asked, squeezing rhythmically, harder each time.

“It…oh…Dell…I can feel it…all the way down.”