“I guess drug dealers and gang members could use a .38, but it’s not the weapon of choice. At least not as far as I’ve seen in my work over the last ten years. I’ve seen a lot of .22 and 9mm, assault rifles, big guns. The occasional .38, but it’s been rare. At least in drug deals and gang wars. This kid in a gang?”
“Not from what I can tell. We’re still looking at all of the angles.” And something else registered. “You said his right shoulder was grazed?”
“Yes.” She pointed to her computer screen.
I almost yelled, “Yes!” Wyatt’s theory that I was the target was looking worse and worse. If I was the target, then his left shoulder would more likely have been hit. I was to Danny’s left. I frowned, trying to look thoughtful instead of elated.
“So unless the gun has been altered, and if we find it, we’d be able to match the bullets?” I had my first piece of real evidence.
“We should be able to match something. Do you have a lead on the weapon?” She leaned toward me, hopeful.
“I wish. I’m working a few leads.” I flopped back in the chair, exhausted. “Someone saw this guy, and no one will come forward. When did the police become the bad guy?”
She shook her head. “When the media decided to start trying cases in the news.”
“I wonder if this poor boy would still be dead if it wasn’t for the protests. If Bernie Legault hadn’t decided to commit suicide by cop.” I leaned forward to stand, but Dr. Robard’s look stopped me.
“Suicide by cop? Where the hell did you get that idea?” Her face turned crimson with anger.
“His mother.” I didn’t think I owed her any explanation.
“A mental patient, off his meds, is killed by the police, and you’re calling it ‘suicide by cop’? That’s just bullshit. Excuse me for being blunt, but I call that a reason to protest in the streets.”
I leaned forward and got in the doctor’s face. Doing my best to stay calm and professional. “Have you spoken to the man’s mother?”
“No,” she spat the word.
“Then you don’t know the whole story. I suggest you not try the police with bits and pieces of the case, either.” I stood and left her office.
I fumed as I left her office and stormed out of the hospital. Then I called the station. “I need to talk to Rick Nagle, please.”
Rick Nagle was Uncertain’s Internal Affairs officer.
“What did you do, Harper?” This was how Rick answered the phone.
“It’s not fair for Dr. Robards to stick her nose in where it doesn’t belong. She doesn’t know all of the details of our cases.” I was on the verge of blowing up, but I took a deep breath.
“What did you say?”
“I just told her she shouldn’t try the police with bits and pieces of a case, if she didn’t know the whole story. And it’s not my job to tell her the full story,” I spoke the words calmly to Rick, so he didn’t think I was irrational.
“What did she say to prompt your comment?”
“I told her that the Bernie Legault case was suicide by cop, and she went off on me.”
“Went off on you how?” I felt like I was being grilled by a psychiatrist.
I explained what was said in the doctor’s office. I could feel myself getting worked up again. “So she may call to complain.”
I heard him sigh. “Okay, I’ve got enough to deal with on the Legault case. You shouldn’t be discussing any aspect of it, with anyone, including the good Dr. Robards. Got it?”
“Yes, sir.” And even as the words had been coming out of my mouth earlier, I knew it. “It won’t happen again.”
“It can’t happen again,” his words were clipped.
“Yes, sir.”
“You really have a temper, don’t you?” Ochoa laughed.
“Screw you.” I didn’t know how much more I could take of his mocking.
I needed help.
CHAPTER 15
I couldn’t wait for the end of my shift, and at the same time, I dreaded it. When I was with people, Ochoa stayed at arm’s distance. He didn’t talk. In the car, he mocked me, and asked questions. I ignored him, and it made him furious. He’d get in my face while I drove, and I feared him causing an accident, so I’d have to engage with him, or I’d become a menace on the road.
The media had all but forgotten about Bernie, or at least my part in it. No one was staked out in my driveway when I arrived home. I pulled my Explorer into the driveway, and walked around to the front door. Home used to be a sanctuary, and had been since I’d come back from my leave. But since starting back to work, home was where Ochoa tormented me.
I’d started using the pain meds and sleeping pills I’d hoarded from my recovery. After the first night, when I’d tried to “tough it out,” I realized I couldn’t not sleep and still do my job. Waking up drenched in sweat, running for my life, or fighting off gang members trying to rape me, was taking the place of a peaceful night’s sleep. That hadn’t happened since the early days of recovery.
If I told Wyatt, he’d tell me I wasn’t ready to come back to work. But I was. It wasn’t affecting my job. I hadn’t pulled my gun when I shouldn’t, or visa versa. Ochoa hadn’t intervened in any traffic stops, or tried to hurt anyone. Only me. And he just observed during the day.
Maybe I’d stay the night with Thomas. Maybe being alone was the problem.
I ran the details of my case in my head as I stripped out of my uniform. If I concentrated on Danny, I’d think less about myself, and how messed up I was. If I had a win, maybe this loser following me around would go away. I walked to the bathroom, and turned on the shower water, letting it heat up, as I grabbed a towel and hooked up my iPod to the external speakers on the counter.
Even if Ochoa decided to bother me, Uncle Kracker radio, blasting at full strength from the speakers would drown him out. As I listened to “Good To Be Me”,I tried to put my facts in order and decide on the right approach for the next day.
Rosa was the key. She held all of the answers for me. But I had to get to her, and I had to get her to talk. But how do you get someone who is more terrified of being sent back to Guatamala than being raped? Or pregnant by the man who raped her? I was speculating on that last one.
My head was going to dark places with the rape. “Stop it.”
I stepped into the shower and immediately stuck my head under the water. The steaming hot pulse of the water washed away stress, bad memories, and death. Without warning, it brought Thomas’ body, wearing only those loose-fitting shorts, into my head. He might well be good for me. If my imagination served me well, Thomas’ muscles had been well-honed, and I looked forward to running my fingers along the curves.
Those thoughts alone had me rushing through my shower, so I’d have more time to slather my body in lotion, and apply my makeup to perfection. I even decided to blow dry and straighten my hair. On second thought, it’d look sexier with loose curls. I plugged in my curling iron as I dried off and wrapped my towel around my body.
I had a date!
***
The terror of it hit me when I turned the corner onto Redwood Ridge Terrace, the road where Thomas lived. I had a date. I didn’t know how to date anymore. What the hell was I thinking?
I should’ve worn my granny panties and my 18-hour Playtex bra. But no, I thought I’d be sexy, and pulled out my best Vicky’s Secrets. Oh, yes, the pale aqua with polka dots and peach lace trim. Matching set. My cleavage nearly bumped my chin. I’d slathered my legs in a lightly scented lotion, so they’d be baby soft, and I even took the time to touch up the pedicure I’d gotten the week before.
I stomped on the brakes, ready to call Thomas and make my excuses, when I saw the white three-rail fence. I drove up another hundred feet and looked at the address on the mailbox. Hot damn, Thomas and I did have something in common. From the lights that lined the driveway, I could see horses grazing in the pastures. Heaven. Horse heaven.
No way to turn back now. No excuses. I pulled into the
driveway and stopped at the call-box. I pressed the button and heard the crackle of static. No voice came on to ask who it was, but I saw a camera, about six feet up, move ever so slightly. The gate opened.
I drove slowly up the drive. I’d never been on a property so vast, that I’d been invited to, anyway. I’d been to them to serve warrants, ask questions, and make arrests, but not as an invited guest.
The pasture lined both sides of the driveway, and every horse took a moment from munching hay (because there was no grass) to check out the newcomer. I saw five horses to my left, and three to my right. Then the driveway expanded into a huge circle that had a drought-resistant garden of some type in the middle. It had been illuminated from the ground, and a fountain adorned the middle. At one time, I’m sure the fountain had been lovely, but now it was dry. I liked that Thomas was conscious of the water situation of California, and not oblivious because he had money. The house was a two-story Tudor. Not my favorite style, but it was nice. Again, there may have been landscaping once, but all had been cut back or removed. It looked bare in the lighting that had been strategically placed.
I saw a Range Rover parked in front of a three-car garage, and I parked next to it. Before I could get out of my pickup, I saw Thomas open the front door and come out of the house.
Dressed casually in blue jeans and a polo shirt, he wore leather loafers. But what I really noticed was his smile. His perfect, hundred watt smile.
I was so glad I decided to dress down from my original clothing choice of a black dress and heels. I’d changed clothes at least six times, and ended up wearing a pencil skirt in a floral print stretch fabric, with a light blue silk blouse that I left untucked. My shoe of choice when I wasn’t in cowboy boots was always ballet flats. But I was trying a more casual approach my friend Charles Parks had turned me on to. I wore gray Chucks.
I climbed down from my truck, pushing my skirt back into place. “Hi.”
“I can’t believe you showed,” he said, still grinning.
A blue heeler cattle dog came running up behind him, and sat at his side.
I would have been offended if not for the grin. “Why would you say that?”
“Something told me you’d call and make an excuse,” he shrugged.
I raised my brows. I contemplated telling him the whole truth, then decided maybe later, depending on how the night went. “So, now that I’m here, what’s the plan?”
The blue dog’s tail wagged like crazy.
“This is Blue. Clever name, I know.” He rubbed the dog’s head. “He’s anxious to meet you.”
I leaned down, and Blue trotted over. I scrubbed his ears, and he licked his lips and chomped. Then he walked toward the barn, ignoring us as he did so.
“That’s usually about enough attention from people for him. He’s more interested in horses and cats.” Thomas reached for my hand. “Do you like horses?”
“I guess.” I didn’t want to give away all of my secrets in the first minutes. I took his hand and let him lead me to the barn. When I looked back, I thought I saw Ochoa in the shadows. Damn it!
I decided not to look back again.
“So what do you do with your horses?” I prayed he wouldn’t say hunter/jumper, because I’d have to get in my truck and leave. Nothing against hunter/jumpers, but I couldn’t see myself dating a guy who rode English.
“I used to dabble in a lot of things, but now I’m a reiner. Non-pro reiner. I have a long way to go to become anything even remotely resembling a pro. But I do have a very patient trainer.” I rubbed the nose of a bay horse with a tiny star on its forehead. “Did any of that make sense?”
“I rope a little, but I haven’t ridden much in the last year. I’ve been riding reining horses for a few years, too. Cutting horses, when I can afford it.” I gave him a sideways smile.
“No way. Really?” As if his smile couldn’t get any bigger. “And here I was afraid we wouldn’t have anything in common to talk about, other than the dead kid.” The smile faded.
“Well, we can always talk about that. I do have a few questions.” I’d hoped to get at least a little police business accomplished.
“I’d hoped this was going to be a real date.” He cocked his head, waiting for my response.
“Well, horses it is.” I walked down the immaculate barn aisle and peeked in a few of the stalls. They were all empty, but bedded thick with a layer of shavings under clean straw.
“I turn them all out at night. They get to run and play without the flies bothering them. No sunburn, and they love it. In the morning, I bring them in. They eat breakfast in their stalls, get exercised, nap until dinner, and then turned out again.”
“Nice routine. You do all of that, and run your business, too?” We continued down the shed row.
“I say I, but my staff does it. And my trainer lives over the barn. Not all of the horses are mine. She trains for other owners, too. Only three of the horses are mine. The stallion we just walked by, and two of the horses in the pasture.”
I looked back to the docile horse Thomas had just petted as we walked by. “That was a stallion?”
He laughed. “I know, right? He’s a gem. He’s the same even when mares are around. It’s all in the handling. One in a million, I say, but my trainer says it’s all in the handling.”
“I want your trainer.” The words were out before I understood the implications.
“Well…” He took my hand again and we walked out of the barn.
I hadn’t spent ten minutes with this man, and he was holding my hand. With anyone else, I’d have ripped my hand away, and felt smothered. Thomas made me feel pampered. Welcomed.
We walked around the back of his house, and up the steps of his redwood deck. The deck was lit in a soft light, the trees strung with mason jars fitted with electric bulbs that hung like lanterns. Tiki torches burned, and Adirondack chairs, with thick upholstered cushions, faced the forest. Between the chairs, a table was set. As I walked up, I saw it was arranged with a variety of cheeses, crackers, grapes, almonds, and bottles of both red and white wine.
“I wasn’t sure if you’d had dinner, so I thought we could start with cheese and wine. Have you eaten?” We sat in the chairs. The air was cool.
Thomas reached to his left and pulled over an angora blanket. He unfolded it and put it over my legs.
“I haven’t had dinner. It’s been a busy day. I didn’t even think to eat.” I shivered.
“If it’s too cold, we can go inside.” His concern was nice.
“I’m good. I like this.” I loved being outside the city. We were outside Uncertain city limits, but still in corporate Uncertain. I’d expected Thomas to live in Clearville. But his ranch was in the foothills, and his deck overlooked the mountains and trees. I could hear the rustling of the leaves, and loved the night. As long as I wasn’t trying to sleep, I loved the night.
“I’m not a great cook, so I had dinner ordered. It’ll be here soon.” He looked embarrassed.
“If you were a good cook, you’d be too good to be true.” I really meant it. He was already too good to be true. I wanted something to be wrong, so I could like him.
“It’s why we’re here on the deck. It was supposed to be here already. I wanted to impress you, but that’s been foiled.” As he spoke, he opened the bottle of red wine. “Carmenere?”
“Well, your taste in wine makes up for it. Yes, that’s fine.”
He poured a glass, and we drank in silence. It was the comfortable silence of a couple who’d been together for years, not the awkward silence of a first date.
I picked up a wedge of cheese and placed it on a crusty bread slice, eating as if I wasn’t trying to impress anyone. And thank goodness, because that sucker was crunchy and loud. Not to mention messy with all the crumbs.
We chatted about horses, and people we knew in common. It amazed me that we’d never crossed paths.
By the time dinner arrived, and the caterer had prepared the place settings and set the table, Th
omas and I had talked for an hour. I knew I would be going home with only me knowing I’d worn my cutest Vicky’s Secret undies.
We walked into his house through the French doors off his deck, and into an enormous dining room. The oval marble table was set for two. In the middle of the table was a centerpiece of fresh flowers I couldn’t immediately identify, but the colors were all shades of beige. In fact, everything in the room was the same shade, including the concrete flooring.
I didn’t want to stare at the interior of the rest of the open floor plan, but this house had definitely been designed for a man. The lights were dim in the rest of the house, but it looked sparse and monochrome.
The caterer made sure we were seated and everything was prepared to our satisfaction, then left.
Over dinner, we finally broached the subject of Danny.
“So you caught the case of my employee?” He put his fork down.
The meal he’d ordered was simple: roasted chicken with garlic mashed potatoes, a rosemary sauce, and pureed carrots with sweet potatoes. The dessert was a chocolate mousse, with a French vanilla topping and fresh strawberries topped with shaved almonds. Again almonds. I chuckled to myself. Simple, but served with an elegance that made it feel like a five-star restaurant.
“Actually, I was standing next to him when he was shot.” I shoveled a forkful of potatoes into my mouth.
“Oh.” He didn’t pick his fork back up.
“I’m not supposed to talk about open cases, but I do have a question.” I pulled chicken off the bone with my fork and knife. Thank goodness my mom made me learn etiquette when I was a kid.
“About?” He picked up his fork again, but only pushed food around on his plate.
I had the feeling he didn’t like the dinner topic.
“I’ll be coming back to your office tomorrow, so we don’t need to talk about this now. The night was going so well.” I stopped eating.
“Just go ahead.” His tone belied his words.
“I’m wondering if you have a Rosa working for you.”
“Believe it or not, I’m rarely in the field, or even at that particular office. That’s a field office, and I’m usually in our corporate office.” He wiped his mouth. “I guess it was dumb luck I was there today. Hold on.” He left the table.
Uncertain Calm (Uncertain Suspense Series Book 1) Page 12