by Cass Sellars
“I told crime scene to call you when they get results in the lab. They had to go clear a home invasion in Parkside. I’ll get you a supplement later.” He looked tired and unfocused. He nodded toward the car. “I told everyone that the scene is your call. You tell them when the cruiser needs to get back to the yard. Only when you feel like everything’s wrapped up, okay?”
Mack nodded, at once appreciating the vote of confidence while wanting someone else to seize the responsibility from her. She began making notes for what she knew would be a lengthy and scrutinized report. After a heavy breath she bent inside the open back door and forced her eyes to focus. She stared at gray dust coating the back seat and thought Sandy wouldn’t like her car being dirty. She began listing the items in Sandy’s car on her report.
The pop of gravel meeting the tread of car tires drew her attention toward an older blue Crown Victoria parking at the perimeter. Ford had stopped making the police interceptor sedans but some departments still had them in their fleet. Virginia Bureau of Criminal Investigation Special Agent Dan Jonas stepped out looking tired in rumpled cargo pants and a faded VBCI polo.
Jonas was a former Silver Lake detective as well as a former Williams squad member who spent his life looking positively bored. Of medium build with strawberry-blond hair, his hooded blue-green eyes made him look perpetually sleepy. His narrow sloping shoulders made him appear frail and weak, an unfortunate characteristic for a state investigator. Dan Jonas had had a reputation for being fairly useless in the field during the ten years he spent on the SLPD and Mack knew he had been promoted far above his capability level at the VBCI and was simply biding his time until the end of the year when he could retire. He was the poster boy for the Peter principle, having risen to his level of incompetence. His presence only added to Mack’s ire.
After speaking briefly with Major Williams, he wandered toward her and waited for her to turn and look at him.
“Sorry to hear about this, Mack.” His delivery was casual and not remotely fitting the situation.
“We just got here so I don’t have much to tell you yet.” Mack assumed he would begin to take his own notes for his own report as the bureau always did.
“Williams filled me in already so I have the gist. I’ll get out of your way soon.” Jonas seemed no more interested in the paperwork that would come from processing what he had likely been told was a drug deal gone bad, than staying in law enforcement one more day than he had to.
Protocol dictated that the bureau would run their own concurrent investigation since the case involved a law enforcement officer. Their expertise and resources could often be helpful, though she doubted that would be the situation with Jonas on the case. After just a few minutes of observation, she watched Jonas walk back to his car where Williams still stood.
Returning her thoughts to the scene, Mack tried not to focus on who had died in the patrol car, or on who lay in front of her; otherwise, she would fall apart. She’d heard other cops report that one of the hardest things in working an officer-involved homicide case was that the officer looked just like them, was dressed like them, and could just as easily have been them.
There was no use looking for footprints since the area seemed to have seen every shoe of every authorized personnel member over the past two hours. She wished she had been here sooner. She wondered how many other detectives had been busy or just ignored the call from dispatch. She knew Williams had tried to find someone else so she wouldn’t have to be here, but she wondered if the delay would prove detrimental. She resented being handled because Sandy was her friend. However, she wondered which would have felt worse, investigating Sandy’s murder or having to let someone else do it instead.
The coroner’s team was preparing their paperwork at the road, a reminder that Sandy would be taken from her soon. Mack finally forced herself to look at the body in front of her.
She wondered, not for the first time, what kind of human could disregard the life of another person. She knew dealers valued their supply more than the lives of the addicts that kept them in business but murdering a police officer was something else entirely.
Detective Hicks left to scan the wider perimeter. Mack unclipped her cell phone. She made a video she would go through later. She took a second to lay a gloved hand on Sandy’s cold arm and whispered a private message she knew her friend would never hear.
After an hour of photos and documentation, Mack was drained. She searched in vain for more she could do, more she could find that would point to the person who took the life of her friend. The covered gurney was being loaded into the transport van and Mack focused on brushing stubborn white dust from the knees of her black pants instead of watching Sandy being driven away. Mack saw Williams bid Jonas farewell just minutes before he sauntered back in her direction.
“You’ll get my supplement over the next few days, Foster.”
“Jonas didn’t stay long, Major. Doesn’t the bureau always require a full report in officer-involved cases?” She knew the answer before she asked the question.
“He’ll work from your report. I filled him in and we both know you’re better than he ever will be.”
Mack stared at him without reply. She changed the subject since commentary on the prior one could land her in serious trouble. “I’d really like to contact that warehouse and see what we can find.”
“You can get the warrant but I don’t think it’s got anything to do with this. Make sure you don’t do anything you’ll regret, Foster.” He drove away from the tragic scene leaving Mack with a list of questions and no answers.
A warrantless search would make anything she found inadmissible in court if they ever arrested the killer. She waited until the area was clear and walked to the warehouse anyway. Keeping busy was the only thing she could do. She saw fresh tire treads at a dock to a building that was seemingly empty and, according to warning signs, under construction by Peticor Commercial Building. The treads near the dock were wide and deep, nothing unusual for a construction scene she supposed, but she started to record the area anyway. She videoed behind her and toward Sandy’s unmarked police car while walking toward the main door at the side of the building.
Unexpectedly, she found it wedged open. She rationalized that she could have just been checking a potential property break-in, or clearing places the killer might be hiding, as part of the ongoing homicide investigation. She continued to film across the expanse of the dark interior. Despite her own argument, she didn’t feel comfortable being there without a warrant—or, more precisely, she didn’t feel comfortable getting caught there without a warrant. Especially after the major’s warning. If the open warehouse was related to what happened to Sandy, the last thing she needed were evidentiary challenges. She panned the video across the center of the cavernous space one last time and exited quietly, avoiding her colleagues still working perimeter control. Hicks stood at their car scribbling furiously in his notebook. If he had noticed her movements, he did her the courtesy of pretending otherwise.
She wished she was anywhere else at that moment. The hours of work behind her and the days of work ahead of her would not bring Sandy back, but she was determined to make them count. She brushed her shoes against the grass and smacked at the film of white construction dust which clung to the hem of her pants and painted the black rubber trim of her shoes. She briefly considered the danger to people who were forced to breathe it every day.
Chapter Six
Mack finally pushed through the door late Monday morning. Olivia was down for her morning nap, and Jen stopped working as Mack dropped heavily onto the sofa and held her wife against her without a word, tucking her face into Jenny’s neck. Mack fought to steady her voice and spoke softly against her. “I need to tell you something.”
Jen tensed and pulled back to look at Mack’s weary expression. Mack imagined that the dark circles she saw in the rearview mirror were visible to Jenny now.
“Okay,” Jen replied cautiously.
“The homicide I got cal
led out on was—” Mack breathed quickly as if forcing the words to rush out. “It was Sandy.”
Jenny’s hands flew over her face as she wrenched out of her arms and stared. Very few times had Mack allowed her emotions to overtake her in front of Jenny, but at that moment, tears streaked freely down her cheeks. Jen hugged her tightly and they cried together.
Gradually, Mack gathered her emotions and made herself continue.
“She worked second shift yesterday.” Mack managed the inane details as a way to steady her voice.
“But we just saw her, it doesn’t seem possible.” Jenny sounded bewildered. “How? Does Mia know?”
“She was shot in her patrol car near Forty-Sixth and Lincoln. There aren’t any suspects. I don’t know what happened. While I was writing up my initial report, David Hicks went to their house to tell Mia. He stayed with her until one of her neighbors came over.” Her voice was quiet and exhausted as she stared blindly at a distant spot on the wall before she could continue. “We need to go see her. See if Syd and Parker will want to go with us this afternoon.” She drew an absent pattern over Jenny’s hand.
“I know they will. She’ll need all the support she can get, Mack.”
Mack just nodded wearily as she snatched her badge from her belt and chucked it on a pile of newspapers on the coffee table. She suddenly felt bitter disdain for the job she had, until now, always loved doing, the same job that had stolen the life of someone she loved.
* * *
Night was still hours away but the late afternoon felt dark as the solemn contingent walked slowly and silently up the walk to the unassuming bungalow on the east side of Silver Lake. The neighborhood, once an exclusively older community, was being slowly taken over by young couples buying and remodeling the old brick homes after the owners had died or could no longer live alone.
Parker smiled as she watched an elderly couple link arms and guide each other up their driveway. She walked closer to Sydney, as if the move would ensure that they would have each other that long. Perhaps reading her thoughts, Sydney squeezed her hand and brought it to her lips.
Mia’s pale, blotchy face appeared as she answered the door. She stepped into Mack’s arms without saying anything and just sobbed loudly. Mack stroked her back and spoke comfortingly into her ear.
Syd closed the door behind them as Parker took in the dark room that hosted an old yellow sofa and a heavy coffee table mounded with wadded up tissues and frayed-edged notebook paper covered by haphazard words and telephone numbers. Mia straightened and issued an audible breath as Parker moved to hug her new friend.
“What can we do?” Parker was desperate to offer something useful but she knew the months of agony would progress without regard to their sentiments or actions.
“Bring my Sandy back?” Mia laughed painfully, sounding as if that was all she would want forever. Jen took Mia’s hand, leading her back to the couch where she sat close to her. “She didn’t want anyone to see this place until we had fixed it up.” Mia drew a shaky finger over the faded brocade cushions. “She said people would think we were a hundred years old if they saw this house now.” She stared bleary-eyed at the worn wooden floor. “Thank you all for coming. I don’t think it has quite hit me yet, that she isn’t coming home.” The words sounded thick on her tongue as she struggled to maintain her composure. She looked over to the old mahogany entryway. “I can still see her coming through that door.”
“We’re going to find who did this, Mia. It’s my case and I’ll make sure we get justice for Sandy, okay?” Mack sounded hopeless as she offered the inadequate pledge to find her lover’s killer.
“Thank you. She loved you, Smurf.” She laughed as Mack looked embarrassed.
“We all thought the world of Sandy, Mia.” Syd squatted in front of her and held her hands. “We’re here if you need us. If you need to stay with us anytime, we’re close.”
“Thanks. I don’t think I can leave her…I mean here, yet.”
Syd knew she indeed had meant her. She watched the redhead pull a much too large shirt up to her face. Her eyes closed as she inhaled the scent; Syd briefly imagined the horror of having Parker ripped from her life in the abrupt way Mia had lost Sandy. No amount of mementos would salve the wound.
Mack pushed the pile of Kleenex into a small plastic trash can and arranged the papers into a pile. Syd knew Mack preferred keeping busy; it was better than feeling helpless.
“I mean it,” Syd continued. “We have an extra room or we can come stay with you, okay?”
Mia nodded and twisted her fingers tensely, spinning the silver Tiffany band that matched the one Sandy had worn. Her phone rang from the end table and she reached to answer it quickly. She listened for several minutes and new tears rivered down her face.
“I understand. Can you give me a few weeks, please?” Her chest heaved as she listened again. “That will be fine, I’ll let you know.” She bit her bottom lip and hung up. She dropped the phone angrily onto the surface and balled her fists against her eyes.
“That was Sandy’s mother,” she said through clenched teeth when she managed to look up again. “She wanted me to know that they would be selling the house and wondered if I could move out as soon as possible.” She folded over her knees and cried almost silently.
“What the hell?” Syd stopped herself from continuing the stream of curse words in line to leave her mouth. “What do you need right now?” She managed a verbal course correction.
“I need to know what happened to my life. I want the one I had yesterday.” Jen rubbed her hand over Mia’s.
Syd shook her head at Mack and seethed at the insensitivity. Sandy had told her that they had planned to get married next year. Their finances were in order and Mia didn’t need the house, but being forced to move out by Sandy’s so-called family, only hours after her death, would have made Sandy livid.
“Maybe it’s for the best, too many memories”—she glanced over the tired décor—“too hard to be here without her, I think. It’s for the best.” No one believed her words but they were quiet as they helped her tidy the living room and then make up the spare bed.
“Thanks for this.” Mia looked at Jenny stuffing a pillow into a clean case. “I don’t think I can sleep in there right now.” She gestured toward the master bedroom.
“No one could blame you, Mia,” Jenny said pensively.
Ninety more minutes of crying and reminiscing left Mia looking shattered. Grief and exhaustion were etched in her features.
“Will you promise to call me if you need to talk?” Mack held Mia’s hand as the group filed out the door.
“Promise. I’m going to lie down for a bit, that will probably help.”
Mack doubted that anything would. She listened for Mia to engage the lock before falling behind Parker.
Jen clutched Mack’s hand tightly. “I don’t think I’ve ever hated being a cop’s wife more than now. I can’t imagine if I were Mia.”
“It makes me sorry that I do this job when you say things like that.”
As Parker hugged Mack good-bye, she whispered, “It will pass for Jenny. She just needs to let it all sink in.”
“Maybe that’s what I’m afraid of,” Mack replied.
* * *
Parker watched the blurry black of the passing road as Sydney steered the Porsche through the slick streets. A steady rain tapped out a sad melody on the windshield as she pictured Sandy and Mia together at the ball. “They were really happy together—you could see it,” Parker said softly and looked over to Syd.
“They were. That’s why I’m still stuck on calling your daughter’s partner hours after she was murdered and throwing her out of the house they shared together. Can you imagine?” Syd was visibly angry.
“No,” Parker almost whispered as the reality of a death so close to home crashed over them both once more. Syd parked the car next to Parker’s in the otherwise empty lot; after-hours parking was almost always exclusively theirs. Sydney opened the passenger do
or as Parker joined her in the building downpour.
“I can run in and get an umbrella,” Syd offered as she felt the chilly sting of the large drops hit her bare neck.
Parker shook her head and looped her arm into Syd’s. “Let’s just walk for a minute.” A different woman might have dashed for the house but Syd knew Parker was remembering another planned dance through the rain just a few months earlier. Another moment when Syd realized she never wanted to be without Parker.
Syd nodded and wrapped her arm around Parker’s waist. They walked silently to the grassy hill overlooking the city lights in the distance. Water sheeted over them as they stood together, remembering their friend and thinking about the devastated Mia. Syd didn’t want to imagine what it would feel like to not be able to have this moment with each other, ever again.
Sydney closed her mouth gently over Parker’s, breathing in a kiss like it could save her life. She believed that it once had. Parker clung to Sydney. They stayed tangled together as the coalescing storms of rain and loss raged around them.
“I was thinking.” Sydney looked down at her lover as she squinted into the deluge and watched drops cascade off Parker’s cheeks. “What do you think about offering Mia your loft? We’ve never talked about you renting it out but it seems kind of a waste that it sits empty all the time.”
“You want me to move in with you?” Parker stared up at Sydney and smiled.
“Well apart from some pretty sour milk and a few pieces of furniture, your stuff is mostly at my place. Making it our place is just a technicality—it kind of already is.”
“I think you’re amazing.” Parker paused before finishing the thought. “Are you sure it won’t make you feel crowded?”
“I’m sure.” Syd welcomed the question. She hadn’t realized how long she had wanted to answer it. “I want us to live together.”
“I just have clothes and odds and ends I can send to storage.”