by Gerri Hill
“I love sleeping with you,” Casey murmured before her even breathing signaled she was fast asleep.
Leslie sighed contentedly, pulling Casey’s arm more firmly around her and letting her eyes slip closed.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
“There he is,” Tori said, motioning down an alley where John emerged, hand held above his face as if squinting from the sunlight. “About damn time.”
“Wait a minute. Dark hair.” Sikes reached in the back and pulled out the folder with Tucker’s spreadsheet. Inside was a shot of John from their interrogation. He held it up. “Blond. What did O’Connor say about the hair color?”
“Maria, the lady at the shelter, said John had dark hair the last time she saw him, but he didn’t act like John.” Tori drove slowly, keeping him within sight. “O’Connor’s thinking Patrick has dark hair.” She glanced at Sikes. “You want to pull him in?”
“Christ, Hunter. On what charge? We don’t even know what Patrick looks like. This guy,” he said, pointing, “looks like John with dark hair. So you pull John in again and you get his attorney, Robert, breathing down your neck, then we’re in the paper for harassing the homeless. No. I don’t want to pull him in.”
“We should call O’Connor. They’ve spent the most time with the guy. They’d know if this was him or not.”
“They haven’t slept in how many days now? No. Let’s just follow him. That was the plan.”
“I got a bad feeling, Sikes.”
“Turn up here,” he said.
“Can you still see him?”
“Yeah. I’m guessing he’s heading to the shelter for breakfast.”
“Okay, good. At least we’ll have a fix on his location.”
Tori turned, intending to meet up with him on the next block, past the clubs, when Sikes squeezed her shoulder hard.
“What?”
“There’s a John in a dress too. My God, they look just alike.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” She sped to the curb, jerking the binoculars out of his hand. “Jesus Christ,” she muttered. “They look identical.” She lowered the glasses. “Mac said they can’t be identical. He said if their DNA is not identical, they’re not identical twins.”
“Maybe just from this distance they look alike. Up close, maybe not.”
“Call for patrol units to back us up, then let Malone know. I’m going to wake up O’Connor. Who the hell knows which is which?”
“You think they’ll know?”
“If not, we haul them both in and let the DA deal with a judge in getting DNA.” She pulled her phone out and continued driving, hoping the two Johns would materialize at the opposite end of the alley.
“Oh, God no,” Casey mumbled, fumbling for her phone, eyes still closed. I’ll kill her. “This better be good, Hunter.”
“We got them spotted.”
Casey opened her eyes. “Both of them?”
“Yeah. They just cut through an alley behind the Rat Club. We think they’re heading to the shelter. One of them is in a dress.”
Casey sat up, ignoring the sheet that slipped to her waist. “Maria said she’d never seen them together. And she’d never seen either of them in a dress. Maybe assuming they’re going to the shelter is too hopeful.” She nudged Leslie with her leg, smiling at the groan she received in response. “You want us to come?”
“Yeah, I need you here. We can’t tell them apart. Maybe you two can. Regardless of what Mac said, they look identical to me. And they both have dark hair.”
Casey tilted her head. “John’s got blue eyes. Blond hair, blue eyes.”
“Okay, so you’re assuming Patrick is naturally dark with brown eyes? Is that how we’ll tell them apart?”
“I’m not assuming anything. I just know John is blond and blue.” She stood, bending to pick up the jeans she’d discarded such a short time ago. “They could both be naturally blond and blue and Patrick just colored his dark for some reason. Or colored both of them.”
“Okay. Head to the shelter. I’ll call you back if it looks like they’re not heading that way.”
“We still have the radio, don’t forget. Quicker.”
“Yeah. With more ears. But keep it with you.”
Casey struggled into her jeans with the phone tucked against her shoulder. “We’re on our way.” She sat on the edge of the bed, gently shaking Leslie. “Come on. We have to go.”
“You’re kidding, right?” Leslie asked, her face still burrowed into the pillow.
“Sorry, sweetheart. But they have Patrick spotted.”
Leslie rolled her head, her eyes blinking. “For real?”
“They saw John and Patrick together. Both with dark hair.”
Leslie sat up, shaking her head. “John has—”
“Blond hair, I know. They don’t know who is who. I’m sure we can pick John out though.” She got up, collecting her clothes from the floor. “I wish we had time for a shower, but we don’t.”
“We look like hell.”
Casey laughed. “I’ll be nice and say you’re as beautiful as ever.”
Leslie tossed the covers off and stood. “And you’d be lying.”
Casey stared as Leslie walked naked to the bathroom. “Not lying, no.”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
“Where the hell are you?” Casey asked as she scanned the street, looking for Tori’s Explorer.
“Christ, O’Connor, are you blind?”
Casey pulled the phone away from her ear and stared at it, then flicked her gaze to Leslie. “She’s a smartass,” she said quietly. She put the phone back to her ear. “I’ve had about six hours sleep in the last four days, Hunter. I shouldn’t even be driving.”
“Perhaps you should pace yourself then, O’Connor. You can have sex anytime. Take a night to sleep instead.”
“You are so funny,” she said as she whipped her head around, finally spotting them. “You could have said you weren’t on the street.”
“Oh, yeah. We’re in the Rat’s Club parking lot.”
Casey handed her phone to Leslie. “I can’t deal with her in this mood. You can have her.”
“Okay. But I’m not in much better humor.” Leslie took the phone. “Hey, Tori. It’s Tucker. You want us on the street or what?”
Tori was just having some fun, Casey knew. And under normal circumstances, she’d have played along. But today, no. She was tired, she was cranky, she was stressed about the case, and she wished she was back in bed tangled up with Leslie.
“How long have they been in there?”
“In where?” Casey asked.
Leslie covered the phone with her hand. “In the coffee shop,” she said quietly before removing her hand. “Yeah, well I don’t think—”
“Wait…there,” Casey said, pointing. “It’s John.”
“Hunter, we have a visual,” Leslie said. She shook her head. “No, in a dress.” She looked at Casey. “What do you think?”
“I don’t know what the hell to think.” She grabbed the phone from Leslie. “They’re both out, Hunter. One in a dress, one not. Hell, they look alike.”
“I told you.”
“I thought Mac said—”
“Yeah, yeah. But we don’t have time to argue about Mac now. If you can’t make a positive ID on which one is John, then we take them both.”
Casey nodded. “They’re heading down Elm, away from you.”
“Shit,” she murmured. “Okay, we’re on the move. Fucking follow them, O’Connor.”
Casey pulled away from the curb, driving slowly, keeping a safe distance away from John and Patrick. “What do you think, Les? Which one’s John?”
Leslie stared at the pair and shook her head. “They look so much alike. But the dress. We just saw John in a dress. Remember how he walked? Like he wasn’t used to it. But this one, the one in the dress, he doesn’t look uncomfortable at all.”
Casey watched them. “I agree. Hunter, you hear that? We think Patrick’s in the dress.”
“We’re right behind you.”
Casey nearly slammed on her brakes as both men stopped and turned, looking right at them. “Fuck, they made us,” she said as she felt adrenaline flood her body.
“Goddamn,” Tori muttered.
“They’re running!”
“Follow them, O’Connor! We’ve got patrol cars right behind us.”
“They’re in the alley.”
“Follow them.”
Casey pulled to a stop and jumped out, running fast into the alley. She heard the others behind her. John and Patrick weren’t far ahead. Patrick was slowed by the heels.
“Police! Stop!” she yelled. John turned around and looked at her, then nearly stumbled as he hit a trash can. “John! Stop!” At the corner between buildings, they split up. Patrick took off down the side alley and John headed for the street.
“O’Connor, get John,” Tori yelled. “We’ve got the other one.”
Casey stopped, nodding at Leslie to follow Tori. She sprinted after John, running into the street, dodging traffic as horns blasted around her. “John, hold up!”
He slowed finally, looking over his shoulder as he ran.
“What the hell’s wrong with you?” she yelled. “We’re trying to help you.”
He finally stopped, bending over at the waist to catch his breath. She stopped too, breathing hard.
“Why did you run from me?” she gasped.
He shook his head and took a step away from her. “Don’t hurt me. Don’t hurt me, okay?”
“I’m not going to hurt you. Jesus, have I ever hurt you?” She took several deep breaths. “Come on.”
“Where?”
“We’ve got to go back, John.”
He shook his head again. “No. You’re going to hurt me.”
“I’m not going to hurt you. But you have to come with me.”
He hesitated. “What are they going to do to my brother?”
“They just want to talk to him, that’s all. They just have some questions. Like when we had questions for you that time. Remember?”
He eyes were wide with fright. “Yeah. Okay.”
“Good. Now come on.” She started walking back, looking over her shoulder as he followed a few steps behind her. He looked scared, but she couldn’t blame him. He probably didn’t know what the hell was going on with everyone yelling and chasing after him. When they got back to the street, traffic had been blocked off and six patrol cars were facing the alley.
She jogged over and held up her badge. “Any word?”
“No. They’re in one of the warehouses.”
She pointed at John who stood several feet away. “Keep an eye on him, will you?” she asked, squinting at his nametag. “Officer Staton?”
“Yes.”
“Put him in the back of your car. He’s not under arrest, but I don’t want him running off.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She hurried off, then turned. “John, you stay here.” She didn’t wait for a reply as she dashed into the alley. She knew what she was looking for. A hole in the wall. But she stopped up short, something nagging at her.
Don’t hurt me.
“I can’t see a goddamn thing,” Sikes said as he hugged the wall.
“Tucker?” Tori whispered.
“Behind you.”
“Sikes, go right. Tucker, go left. I’m going up front.”
She waited as they moved away, then slowly walked into the warehouse, her eyes adjusting to the darkness as only tiny beams of light penetrated through pinhole imperfections in the metal walls. It looked like it had been abandoned years ago. The boxes that littered the floor smelled old and stale and were coated in dust. She heard scuffling up ahead and stopped, tilting her head. She turned slowly to her right, hearing faint footsteps running along the concrete floor. She gripped her weapon tighter, her palms damp with perspiration.
“Sikes?”
“I heard.”
She moved in that direction, hearing Sikes’s careful footsteps ahead of her. They were inside the warehouse now and the boarded up windows let in enough light to chase some of the shadows away. She saw Sikes, maybe ten steps ahead of her. She stopped, looking to her left. Tucker was moving slowly, her weapon drawn, eyes straight ahead.
They all three moved steadily deeper into the warehouse, looking for movement. But when he jumped up from behind two boxes, they didn’t have time to react. He was on Sikes in an instant.
Don’t hurt me.
Casey frowned. Not don’t tie me up. But don’t hurt me. John never said that. John said don’t tie me up, Miss Casey. That’s what John always said. And John had friendly, smiling blue eyes. Not hard like these. Not lifeless like these appeared.
“Son of a bitch!”
She turned, running as fast as she could back to the patrol cars. “Where the fuck is he?” she demanded, her eyes darting between the cars. She grabbed Staton by the arm and spun him around. “Where the fuck is he?”
Christ, she should have known it wasn’t John. She should have known.
“Sikes!”
But he was too quick. The knife flashed, slashing across John’s neck an instant before blood poured from his wound.
Tori fired without thinking, sending three rounds into Patrick, barely registering his flailing body before she ran to John, pressing both hands hard against his neck, trying to stop the blood.
“Officer down! Officer down!” she yelled as loud as she could. “Officer down!” She saw Tucker come up beside her, saw her fumble with her radio, repeating officer down, officer down. She motioned behind her to Patrick. “Check on him.” Then she bent low to John, knowing her hands were trembling as she felt his blood seeping between her fingers. “You goddamn hold on, Sikes. You hear me? You goddamn hold on.” She lifted her head again. “Where’s the fucking ambulance?” she yelled.
Casey turned at the sound of the shots. They all did.
Officer down. Officer down.
“Oh, God, no.”
She took off running again, her heart beating so wildly in her chest, she thought it would explode. She found the hole in the wall, a piece of metal lifted up from the bottom, hidden by a Dumpster. The Dumpster had been shoved to the side. She drew her weapon and stepped inside.
Leslie kicked the knife out of Patrick’s hands, startled at how similar he looked to John. If not for the nearly black hair, she’d—
His hand twitched and she watched in amazement as his eyes fluttered opened. Blue eyes. Oh, dear God.
“Miss Leslie,” he whispered. “I’m sorry.”
“John?”
“He…he made me.”
She fell down beside him, cradling his head, unable to stop the tears that formed in her eyes. “Oh, John,” she whispered. “No…”
“He said…he said he’d go after you if I didn’t.” He coughed and blood spewed from his lips. “I…couldn’t let…him do…”
She felt his body go limp as the life faded from his eyes. She held him tightly in her lap, looking over at Tori who still held fast to Sikes, a pool of blood surrounding them.
Casey stood in the shadows, the scene unfolding in front of her like a bad movie. Her feet felt glued to the floor as she watched Leslie holding him. John. She knew it was John. And only a few feet away, Tori knelt beside Sikes, her hands covered in his blood.
Oh, God. No.
Then voices penetrated and she was shoved out of the way as the room filled with paramedics and police. She watched Tori stand helplessly aside as they took Sikes from her. Tori glanced at Leslie, her brows drawn together.
“It’s not Patrick,” Leslie said. “John.”
“What the hell?” She whipped around, eyebrows raised as she glared at Casey.
Casey shook her head. “No. He got away.”
Chapter Forty
Casey stood by the door in the waiting room, watching Tori stare broodingly out the window, her back to the room. Sam was seated in one of the visitor’s chairs, her hands folded in her lap,
her eyes staring at nothing. Casey made herself move. Sam looked up and offered a weak smile as she sat down beside her.
“How’s she holding up?”
“I’m not sure. She won’t talk to me.” Sam leaned closer, resting her hand on her thigh and squeezing. “I’m scared. For the first time, she doesn’t see me, she doesn’t hear me. I can’t seem to reach her.” Sam leaned into her shoulder. “For the first time, I can’t reach her.”
Casey put her arm around Sam and pulled her close. “She’s in shock. Sikes is like her brother, you know. And she’s got her hands on his throat, trying to stop the bleeding, trying to keep him alive. She’s still in cop mode, Sam. It’s nothing to do with you.”
“I know. I just can’t stand to see her like this. It’s like she’s gone to another place.” Sam pulled away slightly and looked at her. “I imagine it’s the same place she went to when her family was killed. A place where there’s no comfort. And I don’t want her to go there alone.”
“She’ll be okay, Sam. She’ll come back.”
Sam didn’t say anything as she leaned her head on Casey’s shoulder again.
“I don’t suppose there’s any news?” Casey asked.
“No. We haven’t heard a word.” Sam turned. “Where’s Leslie?”
“She went to her old apartment to get some clothes. I think she needed some time alone. John—John Doe—was special. She took it very hard.”
Sam sat up again. “What do you mean, old apartment?”
Casey smiled sheepishly.
Sam laughed quietly. “So Tori was right.” She nudged Casey playfully. “Good for you.”
“I like her a lot.”
“And it’s mutual?”
“Yes.”
“Wonderful. Now I’ll have someone to play with while you and Tori fish.”
“Thanks, Sam. She’s…well, I think she feels a little lost. And I imagine she’s going to need someone to talk to.”