by Lori Gordon
Silence hung between them. Sam simmered with unexpected anger. Alec was her rock, her mentor, her best friend. He always had her back. Constructive criticism was one thing, but to undermine her confidence in the middle of an investigation was something else entirely.
Alec sighed, stretched out his long legs, and tipped his head to the sky. “You got an extra Hersey’s kiss?”
She held up the piece of foil. “Nope. Last one.”
“Yeah.” He grinned. “Why don’t I believe you?”
“You know what Alec? Right now I don’t care what you believe.” She stood up, flipping the foil at his chest. “I have a case to solve.”
“See, now you’re blowing this out of proportion. Jesus.” Alec grabbed her arm, pulling her back down on the bench. “Settle down, babe. I was just trying to give you some perspective.”
“Perspective, huh? And that nice little speech about how cops need a release at the end of the day, is that why you’re with a different woman every night?” As soon as the words left her mouth, she wanted to take them back. Alec’s sex life had no place in this conversation.
His face mottled with anger. “This coming from the woman engaged to Special Agent Asshole? When are you going to wise up and realize he’s a lying, controlling, manipulative sonofabitch?”
“Thank you,” she seethed. “First you slam me as a cop, and then you attack my personal life. Are you done, or do you have another arrow you want to sling?” Sam snatched her arm out of his grasp. “Never mind. Leave me the hell alone. Better yet, go find Lombardo and tell him what you just told me. He’ll be your new best bud. In fact, maybe he should be your partner.”
“What is wrong with you?” His eyes reflected his hurt. “I care about you, Sam, you know that.”
“You have a funny way of showing it.” She got up, ready to stalk off when her eyes narrowed. In the heat of conversation, she hadn’t noticed the long gashes running down the length of Alec’s right cheek. She sat back down, staring at him. “What the hell happened to you?”
She’d switched gears so fast he was confused. “What are you talking about?”
Sam reached out to touch him, thought better of it, and dropped her hand. “Your face, you look like you’ve been in a fight with an alley cat.”
Alec touched his fingers to the side of his cheek, shaking his head as they came away sticky with blood. “I got slapped in the face by a tree branch when I came looking for you. You took off so fast, I was worried.” He wiped the blood on his pants. “I didn’t realize the branch scratched me.”
Sam stopped listening, flashing back to the memory of Victor Vasquez rubbing the side of his face while talking to her and Hannah earlier. She’d dismissed it as a nervous gesture, or skin irritation due to his scruffy beard.
Damn it.
Victor had no alibi; they only had his word that Miguel was already missing when he got there, his word that he’d spent the night repairing the monitors. He could have killed Miguel, shut down the monitors, and gone on with his gruesome business undisturbed.
She pinched her brow, trying to remember if she noticed scratch marks beneath his facial hair, marks that could be defensive wounds. Sam shook her head, feeling her frustration mount. There were holes in her theory that she couldn’t overlook. Why kill Miguel when he could have simply waited until the man went home?
Victor’s words came rushing back, the same ones that eluded her earlier. Miguel’s kid is fifteen. He started hanging with the wrong crowd. His cousin is bad news, but around the neighborhood, that makes him a big man.
“Sonofabitch.” Sam’s heartbeat quickened. The missing link, the one that tied everything together.
“Sam?” Alec called out. “Where are you going now? Come on. Stop pretending to be mad and let me help.”
She glanced at Alec and shook her head, “I’m not pretending. I am mad at you.”
She smothered a smile at his expression and broke into a run.
The temperature in the locker room soared twenty degrees with too many people crammed into too small a space. Lombardo adjusted himself and belched loud enough for the sound to echo through the room.
Matsuda glanced at him. The M.E. had dark shadows under his eyes. “You’re a classy guy, Lombardo, you know that?”
Lombardo searched for a place to sit. Finding none, he leaned against a locker. “Let me tell you somethin’ Doc.”
“Please don’t.” Matsuda said.
“No, listen, you’re gonna like this. I don’t share this with most people.”
“Oh, no, here, we go.” Rafe groaned from a corner of the room. “We’re about to hear asswipes words of wisdom.”
“What?” Lombardo grinned. “I help you with your sainted Maria all the time. Know why she’s still hot for you? It’s on account of you learning to be a man’s man.”
“Hate to break it to you, Spaghetti man, but it’s on account of she thinks I’m a saint for puttin’ up with you every day.”
“Yeah, yeah. Spin the story any way you want to the Doc, but if Maria didn’t love me, she wouldn’t be havin’ me over for dinner every Wednesday.” Lombardo belched again, eyes straying to the gurney. Sanchez had been a young guy, robbed of his prime, all because of those damned teenaged punks.
“She feels sorry for you, man.” Rafe moved to another corner, searching for evidence. “Figures you need at least one home cooked meal a week.”
Lombardo lifted his fingers to his lips, imitating a kiss. “Bruna’s is home cooking. They just cook it up at a restaurant.”
Matsuda finished his examination of Miguel Sanchez’s body, and snapped off his gloves. “There is something oddly disturbing and almost incestuous about long standing cop partnerships.”
Rafe winced. “Take that back, man. That is one image I don’t want in my head.”
Lombardo snorted. “You guys get funnier coming up on dawn.” He grabbed Matsuda’s shoulder. “All kidding aside, Doc, I got somethin’ to tell you.”
Matsuda raised a brow and glanced down at his shoulder. “Please don’t touch me.”
“Don’t worry I don’t swing that way.” Lombardo dropped his hand and sidled up to the M.E., talking out of the corner of his mouth in a low voice. “But that’s what I was gonna ask you, Doc. When was the last time you got laid?”
“Excuse me?” Matsuda’s eyebrows leapt into his hairline. “I don’t see where that’s any of your business.”
“It is when a little bird tells me you have the hots for a certain detective.” Lombardo jammed a toothpick in his mouth, eyeing the M.E.
Matsuda’s eyes grew hooded. “You are out of your mind.” He covered Sanchez’s body with a sheet, nodding to the men to load the body onto the van.
“I see the way you look at Sam Black. You got it bad for her, Doc. Ain’t no accounting for taste, but I know you want her. With the ramrod straight way you’ve been holding yourself lately; I’d say it’s been a while since you enjoyed a woman.”
“Again,” Matsuda said, “none of your business.”
Lombardo shrugged. “Personally, I don’t know what you see in her, but I got no problem with the ladies. Me, Sinatra, Tony Rome, know what we have in common?”
In the background, they could hear the sounds of the crime techs, the rattle of equipment, and the shutter of a camera. Matsuda raised a brow. “One is dead and one is a fictional character.” He observed, hiding a grin. “You do know that, don’t you, Lombardo.”
“Bite me, Doc.” Lombardo pulled the sheet off the dead man, and reached into Miguel’s pocket, lifting out his wallet. “Something I want a look at,” he explained, flipping through it. “What I was gonna tell you is this, forget that crap magazine’s like Cosmo spouts out. Women like aggressive men, especially with a little danger and mystery. Toss in a little suave, and a take-charge attitude and you got a seduction salad that the ladies can’t resist. I’d be happy to give you some pointers any time you want.”
“And I’m happy to have you staying out of my
personal life.” Matsuda deadpanned.
Lombardo grinned, pointing at Matsuda. “That’s the kind of attitude I’m talkin’ about, Doc. Talk to a lady like that and she’ll be putty in your hand. You catch on quick.” He stopped, fingers fumbling when he came across a photograph in a clear plastic pocket inside the wallet.
Lombardo worked the picture free, holding it up to the light, heart pumping hard inside his chest. His head snapped up. “Anybody know where Sam took off to?”
Rafe cocked his head towards the doorway. “No, man, but she tore out of here in a hurry.”
“I frickin’ knew it all along.” Lombardo slammed his first into a locker, holding up the picture with two fingers. “Come take a look.”
Rafe took the picture and squinted at it. “What’s this supposed to be?”
“Our frickin’ big break. Let’s get the hell out of here. We got work to do.”
She’d left two uniforms guarding the teenagers. Sam raced towards the lagoon. One of them stood a few feet from a patrol van with his back turned towards it. There was no sign of the other officer.
“Where’s your partner?” Sam demanded
The officer’s face flushed bright red. “He’s off having a smoke.”
“And the teenagers?” she asked.
“They’re in the unit, like you told us.”
“Uh-uh.” She jerked her thumb towards the vehicle. “And who’s guarding the unit?”
“My…” his words trailed off, realizing he’d let his partner leave the van unattended
“Get the boys out here, and you’d better hope like hell none of them try to run,” she said.
“Yes, ma’am. Right away.”
Sam slapped her hands on her waist, seething with anger. Nothing was going right tonight.
Alec jogged up behind her. “What the hell, Sam? Why did you go tearing off by yourself? Let me help.”
“Not now, Alec.” She shook him off, shouting to the officer. “Keep ‘em there, up against the van.” Sam stalked towards the teens, wearing a grim expression.
“Looky here, its lady badass.” The scrawny kid named Manny made kissing sounds. “Whatcha want now, lady cop? You come lookin’ for a real man?”
“Shut up,” she spat.
The kid feinted to the left, looking past her. “Yo, check it out, man. She bring a pretty boy wit her dis time. No wonder she cum lookin for us, yo. She be wantin’ to see what a real man look like.”
Alec flew out from behind her, and slammed the kid against the van, pressing his forearm into the teen’s throat. “Show some respect when you talk to her, you prick.” Alec leaned in close, breathing into Manny’s ear. “You disrespect her one more time and I’ll break every god damn bone in your motherfuckin; body. You got that, man?”
Manny’s eyes bugged out of his head. “It’s cool, man, it’s cool.
“It’s all right, Alec, I got this.” Sam pushed herself between them, poking her finger hard into Manny’s chest. “Me and these boys, we got some business to discuss.”
“Yeah?” Alec said, increasing the pressure on Manny’s throat. “That’s too bad. I’m in the mood to take out some trash.”
“Hate to spoil your fun, but I got plans for these punks. Guy up in Joliet named Bubba Joe is hard up for a new bitch. I’m thinking any one of these three will do.”
Alec dropped his arm from the teen’s throat. Manny puffed out his chest and sneered, turning to his buddies. “Check this, Barbie and Ken don’t know how to play the game, yo.” He swung around to face Sam. “Don’t you and pretty boy watch no TV? “
“Yeah?” Sam grabbed his chin, staring into his eyes. “Tell, me, Manny, how are we supposed to do it?”
Manny snorted with laughter, making a lewd gesture. “If neither of you know how to do it by now, there ain’t no hope for either of you.”
Alec grabbed him by the hair. “Answer her damn question, you little fucker, before I make you eat your balls.”
“Ever hear of good cop, bad cop,” Manny spat on the ground, letting out a nervous laugh. “That’s how you supposed to play, but I don’t see no good cops here.”
“You know something, Manny? This isn’t TV. This is how we play in real life.” Sam sneered.
Alec smiled. “Looks like you’re up a creek, Manny.”
Sam tilted her head toward Alec. “Well, he’s not too smart. All I wanted to do was ask one question. I think I’ll ask his pals instead. Maybe they’re smarter than this dumb shit.”
“What’s the question?” Manny snickered. “I got all kinds of answers.”
“It’s real simple, and I already know the answer, so it’d be good idea for you to get it right the first time. Which one of you is Junior Sanchez’s cousin?”
She saw a flicker of doubt in his eyes. The two other boys exchanged glances and backed up a step. Manny’s brow knotted, his face twisting into a frown. “What’s Junior got to do with anything?”
Sam nodded. “So you know Junior?”
“Yeah, I know him,” Manny said. “What of it?”
“He’s your cousin.” She watched his face, waiting for his answer.
Manny licked his lips, craning his neck to look at his friends. They ignored him, staring down at the ground. After a long moment, he hitched up his tuxedo pants, eyes narrowing. “Yeah, he’s my cousin, so what?”
Sam pulled out her cuffs and nodded at Alec. She heard a shout, and turned her head in time to see Lombardo plowing through the trees. Rafe trotted alongside him, Lombardo huffed and puffed running over the grass, his face an alarming shade of cherry red.
“Sam,” he grunted, swiping a veil of perspiration from his eyes. “Don’t cut these fuckers loose. I got them on all counts.”
She dangled the cuffs in her hand. “I’m not cutting them loose. We’re bringing them in.”
“Like hell.” Lombardo’s color deepened to burgundy. “We made a deal, remember? We work together, but if the punks were guilty, me and Rafe get the collar.”
“I never actually agreed, Lombardo. We were interrupted by Thorpe,” she said.
“A deal’s a deal in my book.” His eyes shot daggers at her. “Besides, I got the proof to nail them.”
Sam lowered the cuffs. As long as Manny didn’t walk, she didn’t care who got the collar. “What kind of proof?”
Lombardo foraged in his jacket pocket for the evidence bags. “I got these off the scenes.” He handed her the bags containing the garters. “These assholes just had their frickin’ prom.”
Sam turned the bags over in her hand. “Where did you find these?”
“They were turned over with the dirt when they dug up the legs.” Lombardo boasted, “I got something else too.”
Sam passed the bags to Alec. He glanced at them and looked at Lombardo. “You were holding out on us. First thing you should have done was turn the evidence over to Sam.”
Alec was right, but she held up a hand. “What else do you have?”
“This.” He passed her the picture of Miguel Sanchez and his family. Manny stood to the left, right beside Miguel’s son. “Ties it all up in a nice little package. The dickwad offed his own god damn relative just so he could do the women.”
Sam worked her tongue over the inside of her cheek, mulling over the evidence. “When were you planning on sharing this with the rest of us?” she demanded.
“When I had enough to put them away.” Lombardo said.
“Really?” She knew damn well he was lying and wanted him to admit it. While the rest of them were chasing their tails, Lombardo was building a stockpile of evidence, desperate for the collar. It was her case, damn it, and he shouldn’t have withheld vital information. “Because from where I’m standing, it doesn’t look like you planned to share it at all. You ran down here to make an arrest. You have a phone and a radio, but you didn’t bother to call me and you didn’t bother to call Alec. Is this your idea of a truce? It sure doesn’t look like one to me.”
Lombardo knew he was outnumbered
. Sam was pissed. Alec and Rafe glared daggers at him. He backpedaled to save his own ass. “I should’ve called you when I found the picture, when I knew I had enough.”
She folded her arms across her chest. “Damn right you should have.” She closed her eyes and took a breath, trying to still her angry heartbeat. Until Thorpe cut her conversation with Lombardo short, she’d been about to agree to his stupid deal, mainly, because she thought he was wrong. “Tomorrow or the next day, you and I are going to sit down and have a nice, long conversation, but let me warn you right now, you ever pull any shit like this again, or stick your nose into one of my cases, I am going straight to the lieutenant and filing a complaint against you. I’m tired of your bullshit, your condescending attitude, and your interference. Next time you hit below the belt, I hit back, and it’s going to hurt you a hell of a lot more than it will hurt me.”
Sam’s eyes locked on his as she handed him back the photo. “Make the damn arrest.”
Lombardo hesitated. Alec and Rafe, two men he admired and respected, looked at him with disgust. “Sam…”
She shook her head. “Do it. Now.”
Lombardo shrugged, brushing past Alec. Manny stiffened. He’d been watching from a distance, probably thinking he’d gotten a reprieve. Lombardo jammed the kid against the van, twisting Manny’s arms behind his back so he could cuff him.
“You’re under arrest for the murder of Miguel Sanchez and the mutilation of two women.”
Manny blinked rapidly, his face turning bright red. “You sayin’ somebody killed my uncle?” he shrieked, fighting the cuffs. “Uncle Miguel is dead? That’s fuckin’ bullshit, you lyin’ bitch. What the fuck you tryin’ to pull? Miguel ain’t dead. You hear me? He ain’t dead.”
Manny twisted his head to look at Sam. “I didn’t kill nobody,” Manny screamed. “Lady cop, you gotta listen to me. I didn’t kill no one. I’d never lay a hand on family. I didn’t do it, I fuckin’ didn’t do it.”