Improper Conduct

by Patricia Rosemoor

  “The bigger park districts have pools and showers for anyone who needs them. It’s how people without other options can stay clean.”

  People like her sister was what he meant. She could see that he wanted to increase her learning curve, and now that she had something positive to do with the knowledge, she was all for it. Not that she wasn’t nervous about the prospect. These new experiences were definitely unsettling, and she was finding that her usual confidence was difficult to conjure.

  Another thing she should take note of for the story—how taking away a safety net could change the person you thought you were….

  “Are you sure they’ll let us in?” she asked.

  “Positive. Showers are open to the public before nine in the morning and after nine at night.”

  Even so, Isabel felt weird entering the field house, especially when the guy at the desk asked, “Can I help you?”

  “Which way to the showers?” Nick asked.

  An expression of surprise and something else crossed the worker’s face, but he quickly covered it and pointed down the hall. “You have about twenty minutes to be in and out of there,” he warned.

  Isabel felt her neck grow hot as if the guy’s eyes were burning into her while she hurried inside the women’s locker room. A few of the women were swimmers who were either readying themselves to get in the pool or had already done their laps. But if the grimy backpack on the shower-stall hook and black plastic bags she spotted on the floor were any indication, the other women were there for the showers alone.

  Isabel picked a locker and found clothes inside. So she wasn’t the only one without a lock. The next one she checked was empty. She sat to remove her shoes and surreptitiously examined the other women who weren’t there to use the pool.

  The owner of the backpack stepped out of her shower. She appeared to be a teenager like Louise. Another shabbily dressed woman with a toddler in tow heading for the exit was probably in her mid-twenties. And then she spotted two women just short of elderly.

  Not wanting to think about them too closely, Isabel looked away. Wondering if her father was at the office yet, she decided to give calling him a try.

  He picked up on the third ring. “Grayson here.”

  “It’s Isabel,” she said in a low tone, giving her back to the other women in the area so they couldn’t hear. “We just missed her yesterday at the club, but we have another chance to catch up with her tonight.”

  “Where?”

  “A rave in an old warehouse west of the Loop.” Phone pressed between ear and shoulder, she untied a shoe. “It’s that vacant one off of Lake Street.”

  “What is Louise thinking—”

  “And I have another lead I want to follow,” Isabel interrupted before he blew up. She got the other shoe off and threw both into the locker. “Only I can’t get the information I need. Maybe you can.”

  “What kind of information?” he growled.

  “An address for a place called Humboldt House. I’m pretty sure it’s a privately funded runaway shelter for kids, but I haven’t been able to obtain the address myself.”

  “I’ll get someone on it right away,” he promised.

  “Good.” A sudden scuffle from the other side of the locker room startled her and set her heart racing. What now? “I have to go. I’ll call back later.”

  BY THE TIME HE HEARD the click on the other end, he had her location. She was barely a mile away…he could get to her in minutes.

  Smart move on his part that he’d made sure she had one of the new cell phones with GPS technology built in before he’d even known it would come in so handy. He congratulated himself on a job well-done.

  Scientists who’d developed the Global Positioning Satellite surely hadn’t thought their work would be so deadly….

  ISABEL HAD BARELY PUT the cell phone back in her pocket when a young voice cried out, “I didn’t steal your stuff. Let me go!”

  She whipped around the row of lockers in time to see the teenager, now dressed, shove one of the older women, grab her backpack and run out.

  “I’ll report you and you won’t be taking any more showers in here!” the woman called after her.

  “Like I would want your garbage,” the girl muttered, flying by Isabel and almost knocking into her.

  And before she disappeared around the corner, Isabel noted the girl’s expression—guilt warring with desperation. A sick feeling shot through her.

  That could be Louise.

  “What am I going to do now?” the older woman cried.

  Her friend said, “You’ll find new stuff, Martha.”

  “But I had enough money for food for a few days.”

  “We can make signs, stand out on a busy street corner.”

  As she went back to her locker and took off her shoes and socks, Isabel thought she couldn’t stand it. Which was worse—a teenager stealing to survive or an old woman having to beg for enough money for food? About to undress, she couldn’t shut out the woman’s sobs. Something inside her gave. She raided her wallet for her reserves. After all, she had alternatives.

  When she rounded the lockers again, the friend was still comforting the victim, who sat on a bench. A couple of other women in swimsuits ignored them as if they didn’t exist and headed toward the pool door. Shaking her head, Isabel stepped forward, money folded in her hand so as not to be obtrusive.

  “Excuse me?”

  The victim looked up at her through red-rimmed eyes. “I didn’t mean to disturb no one.” Her voice quivered and she swallowed hard.

  “No, it’s all right,” Isabel said, crouching before her. “I want you to have this.” She took the hand that had seen stronger days, pressed the bills into the palm and curled the frail fingers around it. “Get food and shelter for the night.”

  “Bless you, child!” the woman said as Isabel backed off. “You’re an honest-to-goodness saint.”

  Isabel hurried back to her locker, where she started to undress. Aware that she had no towel to cover herself, she grew self-conscious when one of the swimmers glowered at her and moved over, as if she were afraid that Isabel might contaminate her.

  Worrying about leaving her own wallet with her identification in an open locker, Isabel emptied the plastic bag of her toothbrush, paste, comb and travel-size vial of hair spray she’d convinced Nick to let her buy. She dropped the wallet in, then brought the bag into the shower with her.

  How weird that after so short a time on the street she was already thinking in ways different than normal. Something she would have to include in her story, she thought.

  The water was barely warm, the stream barely adequate, but the shower pouring over her felt like heaven. She pumped out antiseptic-smelling liquid soap from the wall dispenser and lathered not only her body but her hair.

  She could have stayed under the water all day, but Nick would be waiting for her, so, reluctantly, she shut down the shower and used her hands to slick the excess water from her body. Then she took advantage of the hand dryers set high so swimmers could dry their hair. Though the signs warned patrons not to dry their clothing with them, Isabel defiantly washed out her panties and did so, anyway.

  For several minutes, the whine was the only sound she heard. When it stopped and she pulled on her clean panties, the locker room was eerily quiet. She looked around, blinking in surprise.

  At last, she was alone.

  NO ONE EVEN LOOKED UP as he strolled down the field house hallway, hands in pockets, head down in a non-threatening manner, billed cap pulled down to his sunglasses, the two together half hiding his face.

  At first, not seeing her outside, he’d thought he’d arrived at the park too late. Then Novak had exited the field house looking fresh as a daisy, his hair still damp. That had tipped him off as to where to find her. Novak hadn’t even noticed him when they’d passed each other.

  Opening a janitor’s closet, he pulled free a stanchion with a Closed for Cleaning warning. He checked the hallway once more. All cle
ar. Then he headed for the women’s locker room, intending on using the sign to keep new arrivals out. First he stopped at the water fountain and washed down a little something that would keep him on track.

  He opened the door and carefully peered inside, hoping against hope that she would be alone. At first he saw no one. Then he moved inside, back against the tile wall, and spotted her. She was dressed and trying to get a comb through her tangled hair.

  His pulse thudded and his skin flushed with a combination of anticipation and dread.

  After all, he’d never before actually taken a human life.

  ISABEL HAD JUST FINISHED combing and tying back her hair. She was about to give it a spray so that it would stay out of her face when the lights went out.

  “What the…?” she muttered. Then, louder, she called out, “Hey, anyone else in here?”

  Even though she knew the place was deserted, that someone must have overloaded the ancient circuit somewhere else in the building, she couldn’t stop her pulse from jagging as she felt for the tiled wall. She would follow it to the entrance. Opening the door would let in enough light so that she could retrieve her few things left in the locker.

  She slid around a corner and directly into something solid. Hand out, she felt warm flesh.

  “Ah!” she yelped, jumping back.

  But the warm flesh followed, a hard hand grabbing onto her arm, twirling her around in a circle and smashing her into the wall so the very breath was knocked out of her.

  Gasping, she said, “Hey, who the hell do you th—”

  Her words were cut off by the feel of a vise against her throat. Strong hands. Male.

  Panic made Isabel rip at them, but they wouldn’t budge. She futilely fought for air. Starting to feel faint, she struck out, raking soft flesh with her nails.

  “Bitch!” came the low male growl that echoed through the dark, empty locker room.

  His grip loosened a fraction and she used leverage to dance him around. Then, his weight pressing on hers once more, he jammed her back into the lockers and her head hit the edge of the door she’d left open. Stunned, she couldn’t move.

  The fingers squeezed tighter and lights telegraphed inside her head, signaling her own death if she didn’t do something fast. He was stronger than she—fighting seemed useless.

  She needed a weapon.

  She threw out her hand and found air. The open locker. Remembering the few items Nick had let her buy, she awkwardly scrambled for them.

  The one she wanted was just out of reach….

  “Die, bitch!” her attacker whispered.

  Coaxing the item forward with the tips of her fingers, she finally got hold of it. And with the last reserve of her strength, praying her aim was true, she pressed down on the trigger.

  “Aaaah!”

  The attacker’s hands freed her throat, no doubt to go to his eyes. Hair spray had never seemed so important before!

  Finding strength she didn’t know she had, Isabel shoved him and kept shoving until he backed into the bench. She couldn’t see but imagined the wood slab had caught him calf height and toppled him backward. An explosion of metal told her he’d hit the lockers.

  Then Isabel made even more noise, screaming as she felt her way to the hall door.

  “Help! Nick!” She flew into the hall so fast, she had to catch herself on the opposite wall. “Nick!”

  “What the hell’s going on there?” This from the green-shirted guy at the desk. “You high on something?”

  Rushing toward him, she forced out the words. “I was attacked!”

  “Listen, you street people can use the facilities, but I’m not getting in the middle of any argument.”

  “No, a man!” she said, her throat straining to get the words out even as Nick came flying back through the door. “A man attacked me!”

  “What happened?” Nick demanded.

  “Locker room,” she gasped, hand to her throat. “He tried to strangle me.”

  Nick flew down the hall, Isabel following, the park district guy yelling, “Hey, he can’t go in there!”

  “Watch me!” Nick yelled without turning from his purpose.

  Isabel was right behind him when he ripped open the locker room door. The lights were on and they rushed inside. A nude woman quickly pulled her towel around herself and screamed bloody murder.

  Isabel looked around wildly, but there was no sign of a man. The only indication that the attack had happened at all was the canister of hair spray on the floor.

  “I swear I left him right there,” she said, pointing to the now empty bench.

  The lone woman had backed behind the lockers but was still screaming.

  The employee was on them, and he had brought muscle with him. The second guy looked like he could bench-press his own considerable weight. The two men grabbed Nick and dragged him toward the locker room door.

  “The lady was attacked!” Nick yelled. “You’re letting the bastard get away!”

  “The only ones who are going to get away are you two,” the first employee said as the duo pulled a struggling Nick toward the field house door. They shoved him outside and Isabel with him. “And don’t either of you come back or I’ll call the cops!”

  “ARE YOU ALL RIGHT?” Nick asked, helping Isabel to a bench in the shade.

  Sitting, Isabel nodded. She didn’t look all right. She looked stunned and scared. He slid next to her on the bench and pulled her to him, cradling her gently for a moment. Her heart seemed to thunder against his and her flesh seemed to melt under his hands.

  For a moment, she was his. He pressed his cheek against her hair and ran a hand along her spine. When she sighed and reached trembling arms up to circle his neck, something inside him melted, as well.

  If anything had happened to her…

  Nick found her mouth and kissed her softly, reassuringly. She kissed him back hard, as if the connection would console her. When he stroked her hair and her neck, Isabel sighed and loosened her grip on him and sat back. She looked so beautiful. Face freshly scrubbed, hair shiny again, she was as lovely as any angel.

  “What happened in there?” he asked.

  “The place went dark and when I tried to find my way out, some guy grabbed me and threw me back against the wall. H-he tried to choke me.”

  Her hand strayed to her neck. Frowning, Nick saw the beginnings of bruises. He cursed and said, “Maybe we’d better call the cops ourselves.”

  “No! No cops. The park district people think we’re the troublemakers. We would probably be the ones to end up in jail.” She shook her head. “I don’t understand how he got away.”

  “Probably through the pool area.”

  Nick would argue with her about calling the police, but he didn’t think it would do much good. Besides, they had just entered a treaty of sorts, and he didn’t want to do anything to upset her.

  His mind was whirling. Could this possibly be a coincidence? First someone following them, then Isabel being pushed into the street and now being attacked?

  He wondered if she’d put it together herself. If she’d drawn the same conclusion as he.

  He didn’t want to put his speculation into words. Didn’t want to ask her about her father’s secrets again. She was upset enough. He didn’t need to scare her to death.

  But how could he not try to protect her?

  “Did you get a look at the guy?”

  “I told you, the lights went out. I couldn’t even identify him.”

  “I wonder. I don’t think that was just some guy looking for easy pickings. I think he was after you.”

  “Why?”

  “You tell me.”

  Her expression hardened, but she remained tight-lipped on the subject.

  “All right, then, don’t tell me,” Nick said, tired of her misplaced loyalty. “But I think it’s time to leave this whole thing to the authorities.”

  “No!”

  “It’s become too dangerous.”

  “If I’m in danger, th
en think about Louise. I won’t abandon her! But you don’t have to do this. Go if you want.”

  “I’m not the victim here,” Nick reminded her. “I wasn’t suggesting I would abandon you. But what if we can’t find your sister?” he asked, shifting at his own duplicity.

  He now had a good idea of where they might find Louise, though he couldn’t share that information with Isabel lest he betray the code. Kids on the street trusted him because he kept their secrets.

  “Don’t say that. We almost found her last night.”

  “You’re playing with your sister’s life here. And your own.”

  Seeming dazed, she shook her head. “I just don’t understand why!”

  He could see she didn’t. Whatever she’d been holding back about the senator didn’t seem like a big enough deal to her to have anyone come after them.

  Maybe she didn’t know everything, Nick speculated. But maybe whoever had pushed her in front of the car and attacked her inside the locker room thought she did.

  “I’ll make you a deal,” he said. “I’ll keep looking with you. We’ll go to that rave tonight. But if we don’t find Louise by then, we go to the authorities.”

  He could see she was weakening. Fear for one’s life did that to a person. And she also had Louise’s safety to think about.

  “If we don’t find her by tonight…then I’ll think about it,” she agreed.

  It was all he was going to get from her. Such incredible loyalty…he only hoped she got what she needed from her father in return.

  In the meantime, he needed to protect her.

  “Ready to make some more rounds?” he asked, figuring doing something positive would take her mind off what had happened to her for the moment. “There’s a drop-in center that provides food and referrals for teens on the street—”

  “That sounds promising.”

  “It’s in a rough neighborhood a couple of miles from here,” he warned her.

  “I don’t care what kind of neighborhood. I care about finding my sister.”

  “We may not find her at this place,” he said, knowing he was probably wasting their time. He wondered if he shouldn’t look into Humboldt House. But even if Louise took refuge at the shelter at night, she would probably be on the move during the day. So it was likely futile to check it out now. “As I said, it’s some distance from here.” A good thing since he wanted to get Isabel as far away from this area as possible, to give her a chance to feel safe. “It’s a real long shot.”