by Susan Stoker
She heard the creak of Quint’s clothes, realizing now it was probably the utility belt around his waist and possibly even a bulletproof vest making the creaking noises, as he leaned toward her. He put one of his warm hands over both of her cold ones. She was clenching them together in front of her. She could feel the heat from his large hand seep into her skin. When his thumb brushed back and forth over the back of her hand again, reassuring her without words, she took a deep breath and made her decision.
“Yeah, I want him here.” Her decision went back to that time long ago when she’d been lost in the mall. The first person to stop and help her had been a police officer. He’d picked her up and let her play with his badge until her parents had found her again. That memory had stuck with her throughout her life, and went a long way toward making her soften toward Quint.
Not even hesitating, Mr. Herrington started in. Corrie heard him lift his bag into his lap and rummage through it as he spoke.
“Okay, here’s the thing…I got the case file from the detective and your description of the guy that came into your clinic is probably not enough to identify him definitively; it’s not like you can have a smell-o-vision lineup even if they catch the guy, but that doesn’t really matter. If he thinks you can identify him, you could be in danger.”
“Not enough to identify him? I know I could pick him out if I heard him talk or walk, I wouldn’t have to smell him.”
“Right, but he could always alter those things. I hate to sound pessimistic, but a blind witness is a tricky thing and many lawyers won’t take the chance on the testimony being thrown out. I’m sorry if that sounds harsh, but juries would have to one-hundred percent buy into the idea that you knew who it was without seeing him. No one wants to convict an innocent person. Reasonable doubt and all that. His lawyer would tear you apart on the stand. It’d be a hard sell.”
“So…what? He gets away with it? With killing Cayley? Mr. Treadaway? All the others?” Corrie’s voice rose in her agitation. “That’s not fair or right. What happened to justice?” she hissed, frustrated and pissed at the same time.
It wasn’t her lawyer who responded, but Quint.
“Easy, Corrie.”
She took a deep breath and tried not to cry. She never cried. She hadn’t asked for any of this, didn’t know if she could even deal with it.
“The jerk had the nerve to call and threaten me yesterday.”
“What? Did you call the cops?”
“Not yet, but it’s on my agenda for today. I wanted to let you know first hoping that it would help persuade someone that I could testify.”
The lawyer sighed loudly. “I don’t know that it will, but it puts a different spin on your safety. I’m thinking whoever did this is scared you will testify and that you can identify the shooter. Do you have anywhere you can go until the detectives have time to dig deeper into the investigation and find more clues?”
Ignoring his question for the time being, Corrie asked, “Are they any closer? Have they figured out who did it?”
“No. Not from what I’ve heard. I don’t get all the up-to-the-minute information though. Lieutenant, do you know more?”
“I didn’t know this was Corrie’s case until today…”
Man, he’s good, Corrie thought to herself. He hadn’t even known her until today, of course he didn’t know about the case.
“…but I know the detective investigating the case. We’ve all heard about it, of course, and been briefed on what to be on the lookout for. I’ll touch base with him when I get back to the station and see what I can find out.”
Corrie turned to Quint in confusion. Her head spun with all that had happened this morning.
“Okay, Corrie, do you have any more to add to what you’ve already told me?” her lawyer asked.
“Yeah, I think so. It might not be anything, but I thought about it last night.” She paused, not wanting to throw Shaun under the proverbial bus, but knowing anything she might be able to tell her lawyer, and the police, might help catch whoever killed Cayley and the others. She felt Quint squeeze her clenched hands in support. He hadn’t let go of them while they’d been talking.
“Shaun, my assistant. He wasn’t there. He was supposed to be there helping me with the radiographs. We go over them together before I meet with the clients. Mr. Treadaway…” Her voice cracked, remembering what had happened, and she forced herself to continue. “Mr. Treadaway was waiting for me to get back in there and make his adjustments. I was upset because Shaun hadn’t come to get me yet; I was on my way to see where he was when I heard the man come into the clinic.”
“Have you talked to him since?” Quint asked the question this time.
Knowing he was talking about Shaun, and not about poor Mr. Treadaway, Corrie shook her head. “No, and that’s really weird. We aren’t buddy-buddy or anything, it’s not like we phone each other on the weekends, but I called his wife and she hasn’t heard from him in a couple of days either.”
“Corrie, the cops know about Shaun. They’ve been looking for him too,” Mr. Herrington told her, sounding almost impatient. “Go over with me again exactly what you overheard the shooter saying on the phone.”
“He was bragging that it was an easy job and he also talked about not seeing someone and that they thought he was supposed to be there. The last thing he said when he hung up was something about whoever this guy was, he would wish he’d paid what he owed after seeing what had been done to his coworkers.”
Neither man said anything for a moment after her statement. Finally, Mr. Herrington spoke out loud, obviously not asking her a question, but contemplating what she’d said. “So they were specifically looking for someone and Shaun just happened to not be there.”
Quint asked, “Do you know of any reason why this Shaun person would need to borrow money?”
“Unfortunately, yes. His little boy nearly drowned a year or so ago and he’s got huge medical bills. He doesn’t talk about it much, but Shaun told me once he felt like a failure to his wife and his other child because they were probably going to lose the house in foreclosure since he couldn’t afford to pay all the medical bills that were piling up.”
Corrie turned to her lawyer. “That’s what I wanted to tell you today. If they’re looking for Shaun, the police need to find him before the bad guys do.” Corrie supposed she should be pissed at Shaun, or at least upset at the entire situation, but at the moment she was more worried about what he’d gotten himself into. She didn’t want Shaun killed on top of everyone else she’d lost.
“You need to go to the station and tell the detective this on the record, Corrie,” Quint said seriously.
“Will they protect Shaun and the rest of his family? Oh my God!” Corrie suddenly thought of something she hadn’t thought of before. She turned her hand over in Quint’s, and looked his way earnestly. “What if they go after his wife? Or his kids?”
Quint tightened his hold on Corrie’s hands. “I don’t think they will. Now, I don’t know who’s behind this, but typically loan sharks don’t go after family. They make their point with whoever owes them the money. But again, that’s just typically…nothing about this case feels normal to me.”
“You have to figure out what you’re going to do, Corrie,” Mr. Herrington told her seriously. “I’m with the lieutenant, this feels off and especially after that phone call, it’s obvious that you aren’t safe.”
“But you just said I couldn’t testify because I’m blind; that I couldn’t identify the killer.”
“I did say that, but I also suggested that they didn’t know that. These aren’t honor students, Corrie. If they think there’s even a smidgen of a possibility you can help the police figure out who they are, and get them arrested, you’re in danger.”
Corrie felt her heart rate increase, but she tried to hide her trepidation. She had no idea what she was going to do, but first things first. She had to go to the police station and tell the detectives as much about Shaun as she could. Then she
’d worry about what she was going to do next. She’d always been practical; her blindness forced her to be. She’d work through things one at a time. Baby steps. It was all she could do.
“Okay, if you’ll call me a cab, I’ll talk to them, then I’ll figure out where I’ll stay and I’ll let you know.”
Mr. Herrington put his hand on Corrie’s forearm. His hand was hot and sweaty, and it felt stifling. Corrie knew the older man wanted what was best for her, but she felt suffocated, trapped inside the booth all of a sudden. She didn’t know what to do and his pushing was just making it worse.
“You keep your head down and stay safe. Keep in touch with me and let me know where you’ll be so I can keep you up-to-date on what’s going on.”
Corrie nodded quickly. “I will.” She sighed in relief when he removed his arm. Surprisingly, she heard Quint shift across from her and felt him move so that his other hand came to hers. He covered her hand with both of his and squeezed, as if he knew she’d disliked the feel of her lawyer’s hand on her arm. The friction and warmth of his soothing touch wiped away the clammy feel of Mr. Herrington’s fingers.
“I’ll take her. I have to get back anyway. My lunch hour is over.”
“Great. I’d appreciate that. I have another appointment in thirty minutes. I’ll be in touch.” He leaned over and patted Corrie’s shoulder. Corrie could hear the plastic squeak as he eased out of the booth next to her and she heard his fading footsteps over the din of the restaurant.
“You okay?” Quint asked softly, not letting go of her hand.
Corrie pulled back, knowing she couldn’t get used to this man’s touch, and he immediately let go. She heard him sit back in his seat. “Of course. I’m always all right. You don’t have to take me to the station, you know. I can get there on my own.”
“Of course you can. You’re a grown woman. But it doesn’t make sense for you to pay for a cab when I’m going to the same place you are.”
“It just seems…I don’t know…weird. I don’t know you.”
He ignored her statement and said instead, “I’ll even let you sit in front in my squad car if you want.”
Corrie laughed, as she figured he’d meant for her to. “You mean you’d actually make me get in the back where the criminals have to sit?”
“Well….it’s very nice back there. A nice hard plastic bench, top-of-the-line seat restraints, and of course the nice shatterproof plastic to keep you from flying into the front seat in case of an accident or from shanking me as I’m driving.”
Corrie just shook her head in exasperation. Quint was funny. She liked that. “Okay, you convinced me. Who can pass up a ride in a cop car? If I’m good, maybe you’ll let me turn on the siren or something.” She smiled so he’d know she was kidding. “Can you give me a moment to stop at the restroom before we go, or will that make you late?”
“It won’t make me late, come on, I’ll steer you in the right direction.”
Corrie stood up and held out her hand so Quint could take it, loop it around his elbow and help her find her way. She was surprised when he ignored her obvious prompt and instead took her hand in his. No one had ever held her hand while leading her. She’d had men hook her hand over their arm and press themselves into her sexually, but most people were awkward and only held on to her with their fingertips, not knowing exactly how they were supposed to help her.
Quint not only took her hand in his as if they were dating or something, but he put his other hand on her upper arm as they walked through the restaurant when someone got too close and jostled them.
“Go straight about fifteen paces. It’s the first door on your left. Pull it toward you to open it. Are you sure you don’t need help?”
Corrie chuckled. This she could deal with. “I’m fine. I’ve been in enough public bathrooms to know what to do. And if I do need help, I’ll ask someone who is in there.” She pulled out her cane from her purse and unfolded it even as she spoke.
Quint didn’t make it awkward, he simply said, “Okay, I’ll be right here waiting for you. Take your time.”
Chapter 4
Corrie made her way down the hall and disappeared into the women’s restroom. Quint pulled out his phone and sent a quick text to Cruz, letting him know he was headed back to the station and he’d talk to him later. He knew Cruz would ask him a million questions about Corrie and what was going on, and Quint would be happy to answer them…after he figured out exactly what was going on.
After reading Cruz’s affirmative response, Quint put his phone back into his pocket and thought about Corrie. She intrigued him, and he wasn’t usually so captivated by a woman after knowing her for such a short period of time. He’d seen a lot throughout his career as an officer with the San Antonio Police Department. People usually fit into stereotypical molds he’d formed in his mind, especially women.
Flirty, scared, victimized, angry, entitled…the list went on and on, but he couldn’t for the life of him place Corrie into any of the items on that list. He’d been amused at her feisty reaction to the busboy and even her rejection of him at first was cute.
Then when he’d figured out exactly who she was and why she was at the restaurant in the first place, she’d stunned him with the matter-of-fact way she seemed to be dealing with everything that had happened to her over the last week or so. Oh, she was unsure and shaken about the phone call, but she wasn’t outwardly freaking out or crying uncontrollably, and that went a long way toward raising his opinion about her.
Of course he’d heard about the shooting that had happened. All the officers had been briefed on the incident and were told to be on the lookout for anything suspicious. The detectives didn’t have a lot to go on in finding the killer, and the media had been putting a lot of pressure on the chief and the department to find who had killed all those people.
Quint had even been aware there was a witness, but he’d had no idea the “witness” was blind. He still hadn’t heard everything Corrie had gone through while the man was killing her friends and workers, but he would.
He realized suddenly that he wanted to know everything about Corrie. Why was she blind? Was it an accident? How had she survived? Was she seeing anyone?
His last thought brought him up short. Seeing someone? He wasn’t one to have relationships with women. He wasn’t a man-whore, but he’d never found anyone who he felt like he’d want to spend the rest of his life with. He’d dated women, he’d had a couple of one-night stands, he’d even thought he was in love once, but it wasn’t until recently he’d decided he was missing out by being single. After watching Cruz and his other friend, Dax, find the loves of their lives, he’d seen firsthand that having someone to love, and being loved in return, could be an amazing thing.
Not only that, but he genuinely liked both Mackenzie and Mickie. They were tough women who seemed to bring out the best in both Dax and Cruz. They lightened up their gatherings and for some reason he could totally see Corrie fitting in with them. Of course he was getting ahead of himself, he’d just met the woman after all, but the thought was there nonetheless.
Quint used to think that having a serious girlfriend would be a handicap, especially for him. Being a police officer wasn’t an easy job. It involved lots of long hours, including overtime, and he was in danger more often than not. Over the last year or so, there had been a lot of highly publicized cases of what the public was calling unnecessary roughness against citizens. It was tough to be a police officer today, but Quint wouldn’t want to do anything else.
Quint had wanted to be a cop since he was a little kid. Most children grew out of their first dreams of occupation, but not Quint. As soon as he was old enough, he’d asked for cop toys. His mom had bought him curtains with police cars on them. His bedding was blue and white. Quint knew his parents had thought it was cute at first and that he’d grow out of it. But he’d joined the junior officer league when he was in high school and hadn’t looked back. He’d gone to college and earned his Criminal Justice degre
e and had been hired not long after his graduation.
Quint smiled, thinking back to the green cop he’d once been. Luckily he’d started his career in the town of Bowling Green, Ohio. It was a small Midwestern college town. It was close to Toledo, but not so close that they had murders and other extreme crimes all the time. The college kids used to call it “Boring Green” because not much exciting ever happened there…other than the annual tractor-pull championships.
In time he’d needed more of a challenge, and while Quint knew his parents wanted him to stay in Ohio, he’d eventually moved south to Texas.
Quint loved San Antonio and truly felt he’d found his ideal job and police department. He had close friends and enjoyed the way the other law enforcement agencies in the city worked together. The feeling of comradery between him and Cruz, Dax, Calder, TJ, Hayden, and Conor were unique. Not to mention the group of firefighters they hung out with on a regular basis. Having so many friends who were involved with serving the city was rewarding. They worked hard, and played hard, and got along amazingly well. He knew he’d never find a better group of friends than the firefighters at Station 7 and the law enforcement officers he hung around with.
Not only that, but Quint felt a deep satisfaction in being able to find and arrest people who were a danger to society…and unfortunately there were a lot of people who were a danger to others in the southern Texas city he called home.
He’d recognized that same urge, that urge for justice, in Corrie today. She’d been disturbed to realize her testimony, because of her blindness, would be discounted. She so badly wanted justice for her friends, and wanted to be a part of that justice, he could almost feel her disappointment.