Justice in the Shadows (5 page)

“I’m sorry. I’m fading a bit.”

“Mmm.” Rebecca kissed her and closed her eyes. “Me, too.”

As Catherine began to drift off, she realized that Rebecca had managed to avoid the subject of their living together very neatly.

Michael turned carefully at the sound of her door opening. The pain in her head was constant, alternating between a low-level ache hovering at the top of her spine to an all-out cannon barrage that beat against the back of her eyeballs until it hurt to keep her eyelids open.

“Good morning,” Ali Torveau said as she approached the bed. “You don’t remember me, but I’m Dr. Torveau, the trauma surgeon who’s been taking care of you since you came into the hospital.”

“I have a few blanks in my memory of the last couple of days. I’m sorry.”

“There’s no need to apologize.” As the surgeon spoke, she withdrew her stethoscope from the right-hand pocket of her white lab coat and leaned over the bed to listen to Michael’s injured lungs. “How does your chest feel?”

“It hurts a little when I take a deep breath. Not too bad though.”

“What about your head?”

Michael grimaced. “That’s not doing quite as well. Major headache.”

“It’s almost always temporary, but I can’t tell you how long it will last. It could be a few days; it could be a few weeks.”

“When can I go home?”

“You haven’t even been out of bed yet,” Ali responded with a small laugh. “Let’s take things one day at a time.”

Michael glanced toward the closed bathroom door behind which running water was faintly audible. “I can rest at home as well as here. And Sloan isn’t getting any sleep at all.”

“This has been hard on both of you, I know,” Ali said sympathetically. “How about if I talk to her—”

“Talk to who about what?” Freshly showered, Sloan walked directly to the bed, leaned down, and kissed Michael’s forehead. “Good morning.”

Michael smiled, the headache diminishing for an instant. “We were talking about me going home.”

“So soon?” Sloan spun around to stare at the trauma surgeon, her eyes glowing with excitement.

“Whoa.” Ali held up her hands, but she was smiling, too. “Let’s see what this morning’s CAT scan shows. If that looks good…we’ll see.”

“Good enough.” Sloan couldn’t keep the pleasure from her voice. As the surgeon started for the door, she called softly, “And thanks.”

When they were alone, Michael reached for Sloan’s hand. “I love you.”

The words hit Sloan like a hammer blow. Her knees felt suddenly  weak, and the next thing she was aware of was gasping for breath as tears poured down her cheeks. “Oh God, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry you were hurt. I love you so much.”

“Come here, love,” Michael murmured, tugging on Sloan’s hand.

Somehow, Sloan managed to get the bed rail down and very carefully stretched out next to Michael, curling on her side and pressing her face close to Michael’s on the pillow. “I’m such a mess without you.”

“Well, I’m here,” Michael soothed. “And you know I’ll never leave you, don’t you?”

Nodding, Sloan caressed Michael’s face as she slipped into sleep.
I promise to take you home soon. And I promise, no matter what, that you’ll be safe from now on.

———

When Sloan was certain that Michael was asleep, she eased from the bed and slipped from the room. On her way through the hospital, she stopped at a payphone.

A female voice answered on the second ring. “Hello?”

“Sarah? It’s Sloan. Is Jason around?”

“He’s in the study. I’ll get him.”

A minute later, Jason said, “How’s Michael.”

“Good. There’s even a chance she’ll come home soon.” Saying the words made Sloan feel uncharacteristically superstitious, so she quickly moved on. “What are you doing?”

There was a beat of silence, then, “Phishing for addresses on our Internet ‘friends.’”

Sloan understood that to mean he was trying to pin down the on-line pedophiles the team had been tracking. Phishing referred to the practice of hijacking confidential information from on-line consumers by pretending to be a legitimate business updating a common account, such as AOL or Paypal. An individual would receive an e-mail claiming that there had been a problem with the billing of the consumer’s account and directing the consumer to click on a hyperlink in the body of the e-mail for the “Billing Center.” When the consumer clicked on the link they landed on a site that looked completely legitimate, but when they entered their confidential financial or personal data, it would be relayed back to the Internet thief.

“Finding anything?”

“Might be.”

Sloan caught her breath. “How about we discuss this at the office?”

“Sure. When?”

“Now.” Sloan hung up, her fatigue magically dissipating. She was ready to hunt.

———

At seven-thirty Rebecca settled into a plain office chair in the drab institutional room and nodded perfunctorily to the middle-aged man seated across from her.

“Good morning, Sergeant,” he said.

“Dr. Whitaker.”

“I was a bit surprised to find that you had scheduled more sessions with me.”

Rebecca shrugged. “My paperwork isn’t quite in order, and Captain Henry won’t assign me to any regular duty because of it.”

“Ahh…I see. So
I’m
the sticking point.”

“Yes.”

He asked the usual routine follow-up questions, to which she answered with the obligatory neutral responses. Near the end of the session, he asked, “And how is Dr. Rawlings?”

“She’s fine.” Rebecca held his gaze, refusing to reveal her surprise at the unanticipated turn in the conversation.

“How does she feel about your job?”

“Why does it matter?”

“One major source of stress in a police officer’s life is conflict at home. There is very often domestic discord stemming from the erratic work hours or complaints of…emotional absence.”

His words hit close to the mark, and Rebecca colored. “I’m not stressed.”

“Then you may be the only officer who isn’t.” Whitaker smiled slightly.

“What do you know about Catherine?” she asked abruptly.
Never let the witness lead the discussion. Always take the offensive position.

Whitaker blinked. “Uh…I know you met during the serial rape case. I know that you saved her life.” A beat passed while he visibly regrouped. “And I suspect that you’re lovers.”

“Why?” Rebecca’s tone was laser-sharp.

“You haven’t denied a personal relationship, and every time her name comes up, you become defensive. No…not defensive. Protective.” He smiled. “Which is what you do, after all, isn’t it, Sergeant?”

“That’s the job description.”

“Does she mind what you do?”

“Her name does not belong in your report. If you want me to come back for another session, you had best see that it isn’t.”
And you want me to come back, don’t you? You want something from me.

“You have my word.” He leaned forward. “Is she bothered by your job?”

“We’re not going to discuss Catherine Rawlings.” Rebecca glanced at her watch. “And it’s time for me to go.”

“We have another minute or two. Would you quit if she asked you to? Theoretically, of course.”

“What difference does that make,
theoretically?”

“It says a lot about you.”

Rebecca stood and pointed to the gold shield exposed on the flap of the leather badge case which protruded from her breast pocket.
“That
says all you need to know about me.”

“I don’t agree, Sergeant,” he rejoined softly.

“Your prerogative.”

As Rebecca reached for the door, she heard the quiet words from behind her. “You didn’t answer my question.”

She turned the knob, pushed the door open, and stepped out into the hall. She didn’t want him to see her face, because she was afraid he’d realize that she didn’t know the answer.

Rebecca walked directly from Whitaker’s office to the vice squad division. As she had come to expect, even though it daily continued to shock her, Watts was already at his desk. “Anything new?”

“The computer cops want us to come over.”

Twenty minutes later, they were buzzed into Sloan’s building. Jason, Sloan, and, to Rebecca’s surprise, Mitchell as well, were all seated at computer stations, cups of coffee on the counters beside them.

Glancing at Sloan, Rebecca raised an eyebrow. “How are things at the hospital?”

Despite the creases of fatigue in her forehead and the shadows marring her cheeks, Sloan’s eyes were sparkling. “Much better. Thanks.”

“Glad to hear it. So, what’s up?”

“Jason,” Sloan said, “why don’t you bring them up to speed.”

“Yesterday afternoon,” Jason explained, “I made a list of all the e-mail addresses of people who used to chat with LongJohnXXX on a regular basis, figuring that some of them must be subscribers to the porn videos. Unfortunately, the list is long, and there’s no way of knowing at this point how many of the individuals are locals. There’s also no way to know if they really have anything at all to do with the porn ring.”

“But?” Rebecca could hear the excitement in his voice.

“But once I get names and addresses, it shouldn’t be that difficult to find out other things about these guys. I can put together profiles, and we can do the same thing we did with Long John. Maybe we’ll get another hit.”

Rebecca looked skeptical. “It’s a long shot.”

“It’s not like we have a lot else going on right now,” Jason responded, looking not the least bit deterred. “Once we have some probables, I thought Catherine might look at them. She can…sense things. She’s a great profiler.”

Rebecca opened her mouth to say no, and clamped her jaws tight instead. She rubbed the bridge of her nose where a headache was forming. There seemed to be no way at all that she could keep Catherine away from the investigation. “Yeah. That’s a good idea.”

“Anything new at the cop shop?” Sloan inquired.

“Let’s go back to the conference room for a briefing,” Rebecca suggested. “I’ve got some ideas.”

Once they were all settled around the table, Rebecca studied her team, knowing that she had to make a decision now as to how much she would share. Two people present were civilians, one was just a rookie cop, and what she had to say was beyond sensitive. But all of them were willing to walk on a high wire without a net in the name of justice. She owed them her trust.

“Sandy gave me a lead last night. It’s not much, but she thinks she might have seen the guy in the porn video at this sex club called Ziggies.”

“Whoa, that’s choice,” Watts exclaimed. “That place is supposed to be mobbed up.”

“Can Sandy work the place?” Sloan asked immediately. “It would be good to have someone on the inside there.”

Mitchell’s face turned white. “You want her to turn tricks in there for information? Why don’t you just shoot her instead? At least that would be quick and painless.”

Sloan jerked around in her seat to stare at Mitchell, shocked by the ourburst.

“Officer, you’re out of line,” Rebecca shot out, watching Mitchell carefully. The young officer stared straight ahead, her back ramrod stiff, her neck flushed. She was controlling her anger, but just barely. “Unfortunately, I think Sandy’s too well-known there. If she starts hanging out for no good reason, especially if she’s talking around, someone will notice.”

“What you need is someone undercover,” Jason observed mildly. “I agree that Sandy is a good source, but she’s at risk if she becomes too visible. You need someone who’s part of the club life.”

Watts spoke up. “Maybe we can put a female cop in Ziggies.”

“To do what?” Jason asked pointedly. “Dance topless? I think most of your detectives would consider that a little beyond the call.”

Sloan eyed Jason. “Do you have something in mind Jason?”

“I know someone who can get inside.” Jason smiled at Sloan.

Of course you do,
Sloan thought.
Jesus, Sarah is going to kill us.

Rebecca shook her head. “I can’t bring in another civilian. And I don’t want someone on the team I don’t know.”

“It’s not what you think,” Jason said.

“You want to explain?”

“Let me set something up for later,” he said, “and if you’re not happy with it, we’ll forget the idea.”

“Fine. At this point, I’ll consider any option.” Rebecca looked directly at Sloan. “We need to dig out the leak within the department. That’s going to be on you.”

Sloan’s violet eyes flashed. This was the green light she’d been waiting for. “I need a list of everyone you can think of who might have known about the operation last weekend. Jason and I will need to trace financial records, employment histories, educational background, previous postings—anything that might tie into Zamora or point to some other criminal activity.”

“I know.” Rebecca made her decison. “For starters, there’s Capt. John Henry, commander of the Vice unit. Teri Cummings is the civilian clerk, and she probably handled the paperwork for the warrant. At this stage, I’m unaware of anyone else in the police department who might have known about it directly.”

“Are you suspicious of either one?” Jason’s question was placed mildly, but he knew by its very nature it was inflammatory.

“I wouldn’t have been suspicious of Henry if I hadn’t learned that he had previously been involved in shutting down the investigation into the murder of two cops. If he wasn’t part of the cover-up, he was at least aware of it and let it happen.” Her tone was bitter. “So that puts him high on the list. Cummings I don’t know at all, but it’s hard to believe it would be her.”

“Is there anyone who has access to your field reports or your files or anything that might have had information about what we were doing?” Sloan inquired.

Rebecca started to shake her head no, and then stopped abruptly. “Goddamn it. I was…injured…earlier this year and out of commission for a while. In order to be reinstated, I had to see the department shrink. He could have picked up something from me.”

“Are you still seeing him?” Jason asked directly, no apology in his voice. This wasn’t personal, this was business. Deadly business.

“Yes.” Rebecca gave no explanation, because the reasons didn’t matter. “Why?”