Sheltering Dunes (18 page)

Tory sat at her desk finishing her notes. She looked up when Reese appeared in the doorway, talking on her phone.

“Hold on a second,” Reese said to whoever she had on the line and looked at Tory. “Status report?”

“I’ll fill you in when you’re done.” Tory gathered the files and moved over to the sofa in the small sitting area across from her desk. A minute later, Reese joined her.

“Problem?” Reese asked.

“No. They’re both stable and capable of speaking with you.”

“Allie said you gave her the green light. She’s going to talk to the girl first. I was on my way to talk to Flynn.” Reese crossed her ankle over her knee and leaned back, stretching out one arm along the back of the sofa until her fingertips touched Tory’s shoulder. “Something’s bothering you.”

Tory grasped Reese’s hand and threaded her fingers through Reese’s. “Are you thinking one of them might have been targeted?”

“It’s certainly possible. Going by the statistics, though, a random assault—possible robbery, even gay bashing—would be more likely.”

Tory stroked Reese’s palm, thinking about Mica. The girl hadn’t run away this time, but everything about her screamed that she wanted to. She rarely made eye contact, her answers were short and uninformative, and her manner belligerent—at least on the surface. She had an edge of anger, all right, but her attitude seemed fueled more by fear than anything else, and that bothered Tory. Her instinct was always to heal, and while she was able to tend to Mica’s body, she hadn’t been able to help her escape whatever monster was chasing her. “My ethical responsibilities are getting a little tangled here. You know, patient confidentiality.”

“This is an official police investigation,” Reese said. “We need to know what’s going on, especially if one of them is a target. This could’ve been a homicide investigation. They were lucky.”

“I know that. But I’m also their doctor, and our conversations are confidential.”

“True.” Reese’s tone was casual. She wasn’t pushing, but she wouldn’t. Not just because she was Tory’s partner, but because Reese believed in the fundamental merit of rules and regulations. She would entrust her life to the hierarchy that created order and safety out of chaos. “You’ll have to decide how much is confidential and what is essential for us to know in order to see that this doesn’t happen again.”

“I’m sorry,” Tory said. “I wish I
did
have something substantial to point you toward, but I don’t. I’m just really worried that the next time one of them shows up here, they’re going to be a lot more seriously injured.”

“I intend to see that doesn’t happen,” Reese said. “I appreciate your impressions. Tell me what you can, I’ll ask what more I need to know, and you answer whatever is appropriate. You’ve got good judgment. I trust you.”

“Thank you.” Tory collected her charts and sat back down. “I can give you a physical update. They were both viciously assaulted, although Flynn was the more seriously injured.” She ran through her physical findings for each patient. “On the basis of this, if one of them is a target, I think it’s Mica.”

“Why, if Flynn took the brunt of the beating?”

“From what I’ve put together from the two of them, it sounded as if the assailant was focused on Mica, and Flynn got in the way. She was…”

“Collateral damage.” Reese’s expression never changed, but she had to be thinking about the troops she had lost.

“I hate that term,” Tory said.

“So do I. What you’ve told me is very helpful. What else?”

“Mica’s ID says she’s from New York City, but when I mentioned a few places, she didn’t seem to be very familiar with any of them. Doesn’t necessarily mean that she’s not being truthful, but I suspect both her name and her address are false.”

“That jibes with what we’ve found out so far.” Reese regarded Tory steadily. “Any distinguishing marks or characteristics?”

Tory hesitated. “She has scars indicative of knife wounds—one on her lower abdomen, several on her arms, one on her back. I can’t really tell now how serious they might have been, but she’s no stranger to violence. She has a number of tattoos, most of which are actually very well done. The large one on her back says…” She looked at her notes. “La Mara. Someone’s name, I imagine. The others—”

“Wait a minute,” Reese cut in. “Two words…La Mara?”

“Yes.”

“Is there a number?”

“Huh.” Tory pictured the design in her mind. “I didn’t see it initially, but yes, the scroll after the words that I thought was decorative is actually a fairly complex and quite beautiful thirteen.”

“Thanks. I appreciate the information.” Reese stood up, her face settling into the stark lines Tory recognized as ultimate focus. Reese was now on a mission.

“This is serious, isn’t it,” Tory said, rising with her.

“It could be.” Reese brushed the backs of her fingers over Tory’s cheek. “Wait here until I can have someone take you home. I’m going to go into the office in a few minutes and make a few calls.”

“All right. I’ve got plenty to do until you have an officer who’s free.” Tory slid her arms around Reese’s waist and kissed her quickly. “Can you make it home for breakfast? Pick up the baby on the way? We might as well let her sleep the rest of the night with Kate and Jean.”

“I’ll be there.” Reese looked at her watch and frowned. “Why don’t you catch some sleep while you’re waiting for a ride? The paperwork can keep.”

Tory smiled. “Spoken like a true cop who I happen to know hates paperwork. If I get tired, I’ll nap. Be careful.”

“I will.” Reese kissed her. “I love you.”

Tory waited until the sound of Reese’s footsteps ended with the opening and closing of one of the treatment room doors. She closed her own door and stretched out on the sofa with Mica’s chart balanced on her knees. As she completed her notes, she thought of the tattoo that had meant something to Reese and that Reese had very carefully not explained.

*

Flynn was drifting, struggling to stay awake as the Percocet kicked in, when someone knocked on the treatment room door and walked in. Hoping Mica had returned, she shifted painfully onto her right side and opened her eyes. “Hi, Reese.”

Reese pulled over a stool and sat down next to the treatment table, putting them on the same level. “Doing okay?”

“Not too bad,” Flynn said. “Any word on the guy?”

“I was just talking to Bri. She and a couple of the other officers have been canvassing the neighbors and patrolling the general area. Nothing so far.”

“He either took off in a car or he’s inside somewhere.”

“More than likely, but we’ll keep looking. Can you give me a description?”

Flashes of those few minutes in the alley ran through Flynn’s mind. Mica’s shout for her to run, the torrent of blows, the helpless frustration. A wellspring of fury clouded her already cloudy mind. “Give me a second.”

“I’m sorry to have to do this now,” Reese said.

“No. It’s okay. It just happened really fast.”

“Take it one thing at a time. Let’s start with what was going on before you reached that alley. Where were you?”

“Walking east along Commercial. On our way to Mica’s.” Flynn smiled at the memory of them rushing down the street, arms around each other, and why they were in such a hurry. She’d been happy and lighthearted, excited to be with Mica, to be connected to her. She’d been thinking about being even closer. “We were half a block from Mica’s when it happened.”

“Do you remember where he came from? What direction?”

Flynn tensed, reliving the shock of the first blow in the middle of her back. “Someone hit me from behind, pushed me down the alley, away from Mica.”

“So he came up behind you? Any indication he might have been following you?”

“I don’t know, maybe. I guess he could’ve been standing in the doorway of one of the buildings when we passed. I remember—” She remembered Mica looking over her shoulder, more than once. As if she was looking for something or some
one
behind them.

“What?” Reese asked.

“Nothing.”

“Mica didn’t give any indication she was nervous or frightened?”

Flynn’s head began to pound. A cascade of flashing lights shot through her eyes, and a thousand needles pierced her brain. “I’m sorry. I’m not sure. I’m a little fuzzy right now.”

“I understand,” Reese said patiently. “Just give me your impressions. I’ll sort things out from there.”

“I think Mica looked back a couple times. I can’t be sure.”

“Okay. She didn’t say anything? Didn’t warn you in any way?”

“No. We were kind of wrapped up in each other. At least I was. Not paying much attention to anything else.”

“The two of you, you’re involved?”

“I’m not sure.” Flynn flushed. “It was a date. A casual one.”

“Uh-huh, okay. So someone came up behind you, shoved you into the alley. Then what?”

Flynn gripped the side of the stretcher, curling her fingers around the cool steel. Surprise, pain, fear, and anger flooded through her in succession. Mica’s sharp cry of pain, the sight of the attacker’s arm wrapped around Mica’s throat, lifting her off the ground, pulling her away. Pulling her into the dark. “He was medium height, heavyset. Maybe three or four inches taller than Mica. There wasn’t much light. No beard, close-cut hair. Big arms. No jacket.”

“White? Black?”

“Not black. I remember his forearm was bare. There was a mark—some kind of tattoo on his forearm—right forearm.”

“Do you remember what it was?”

“No. I only saw it for a second, but it was big, maybe five inches high.”

“Did you hear his voice?”

“Yes. He had an accent. Spanish, I think.” Flynn’s breathing was ragged and she was starting to get light-headed. She settled herself, fighting off the disorienting effect of the drugs and the icy fear of memory. “I’m sorry I don’t have more for you.”

“That’s all right, you did really well.” Reese leaned forward and rested one hand on the stretcher next to Flynn’s. She didn’t touch her, but her presence filled the space. “What can you tell me about Mica?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Flynn said almost automatically. Everything always came back to Mica and unanswered questions. And always, her pressing need to protect Mica from everyone, even the people she trusted.

“The usual things people talk about when they first meet—where she’s from, what she’s doing here. Is she married, seeing anyone, hooked up with friends in the area?”

“Shouldn’t she be telling you this?”

“Yes, but I’m not sure she will.” Reese held Flynn’s gaze. “You know what I’m talking about.”

“I’m sorry, I can’t tell you anything.”

“I can understand that you don’t want to. That keeping her confidence is important to you. But one of you could have been killed back there. If there’s any chance it’s going to happen again, I need to know what’s going on.”

“I don’t know the answer to your questions,” Flynn said.

“If you did, would you tell me?”

“I don’t know.” Flynn struggled to explain what she couldn’t even explain to herself. “You’ll have to find out from her what you need to know.”

“All right. Try to get some sleep.” Reese rose. “When we’re done talking to Mica, I’ll have Allie give you both a ride home.”

“Thanks.”

Reese paused on the way to the door. “By the way. Is this her priest protecting her or her girlfriend?”

“I’m not her confessor.” Flynn took a long breath. “I don’t think I’m her girlfriend either, but I’d like to be.”

“Word of advice, then—love sometimes makes it hard to see the whole picture, especially when all you see is her. You can get into trouble that way.”

“Yeah,” Flynn said. “I know.”

*

“Your ID says your name is Mica Butler.” Allie motioned to a chair in the small conference room down the hall from the treatment rooms. Mica glanced at the chair and then the door they’d come through, and Allie braced herself to grab her if she tried to run. She looked like she might. “Do you want a soda or something?”

“No,” Mica said.

“You might as well sit down. This is going to take a few minutes.” Allie pulled out a chair at the small round wooden table and set her hat on the top. She leaned back and waited. It was two a.m. She had all night.

Mica yanked out a chair across from Allie’s and flopped into it.

“You want to tell me what happened tonight?” Allie asked.

“We got jumped. He took off when we didn’t lay down for it.”

“You know him?”

“Nope.”

“Know why he went for you?”

“Nope,” Mica said.

Allie took out her notebook. “Description?”

“It was dark.”

“He almost killed Flynn,” Allie said conversationally and looked up from her notes. Mica’s bored expression faltered. Her eyes sparked and her lips thinned. Bingo.

“I didn’t see him all that well.”