by C L Hart
All hell broke loose as several officers tried to hold the two angry detectives apart. Abby raced to her partner’s side, ready to back him regardless of the situation.
“What’s going on?” Lieutenant Banks shouted, but no one offered her an explanation. “Detectives?” she demanded.
Lincoln turned to Abby and grabbed her by the arm. “Let’s go.”
“What’re you doing? Let go of me!” Abby objected as Lincoln forcefully pulled her from the crime scene. “What the hell was that all about, Lincoln? Talk to me.” She looked from her partner back to the scene. She could see they had rolled the body over and Lieutenant Banks was crouched down, looking at something behind Billy Ward’s back.
“Abby, we need to get you out of here.”
“What? Why?”
Lincoln tugged on her arm as Lieutenant Banks and Detective Webber headed in their direction.
“Lincoln, what’s going on?”
“Abby, wait there,” Banks called, holding up her hand. “Lincoln, I need a word.”
Lincoln and Lieutenant Banks stood talking for several minutes. Abby’s brow furrowed as she watched them, wondering what was going on. Her attention was drawn to the coroner as he laid out a body bag next to Billy’s corpse.
“That’s bullshit!” Lincoln’s voice rose, and Abby looked over as her boss headed toward her. “Lieutenant?”
“Detective.”
The official title from Lieutenant Banks unnerved her as she looked at her approaching partner. “What’s going on?” She looked from one to the other.
“Abby, I realize this isn’t the time or place for this, but I’ve no choice.”
“I’m not stupid. I know I can’t be a part of the investigation—”
“That’s not it, Abby,” Lincoln said.
“I’m off the case and I’m on leave. What else would you like me to do?”
“Abby, I’m going to need your gun and shield.” Lieutenant Banks held out her hand.
“What?” She looked to Lincoln in disbelief. “Why?”
“For reasons I can't go into at this time.”
Abby saw the reason as it crossed their faces, one at a time. “You think I did this?” Abby looked from one to the other. “You can’t be serious. I’m a suspect?”
“Abby,” Lieutenant Banks cautioned.
“What? If that's not it, then what?” No one spoke. “Tell me. Am I a goddamned suspect?” she demanded.
“Yes,” Lieutenant Banks responded flatly.
Only then did she look around the entire crime scene and see the faces of her fellow officers, and she knew. She was more than a suspect, she was the suspect, and they had already convicted her.
“I didn’t do this,” she said quietly. “I didn’t kill him.” She turned around and glanced over the crime scene. “This can’t be happening. So now what? Are you taking me in?”
“No, you’re free to go, Abby,” her lieutenant stated.
“For now?” she responded sarcastically, but Banks ignored it. The reality of the situation was starting to sink in. “Should I call my lawyer?” She looked to Lincoln who remained silent. “Lincoln?”
“Abby, I don’t care what anyone says or what evidence they have—”
“Lincoln,” his boss warned.
Abby looked at Lincoln and saw in his eyes that he, at least, believed her. “I need to call Nathan anyway, before he reads this in the papers. You want ’em,” she pulled out her precious gold shield and then unholstered her gun, handing them both to her commander, “you got ’em.”
“Abby.” The distress of the situation came through in the lieutenant’s voice.
“You know where I’ll be,” Abby said to her partner.
“Abby, it is not personal,” Lieutenant Banks said as the defeated detective pushed her way between her commander and her partner.
Abby stopped and looked back. “You’re wrong, Lieutenant; it’s always been personal.”
♥
It was late as Abby made her way down the long, silent hallway. Or maybe it was early — it didn’t matter. Her head was filled with Billy’s voice. His laughter rang out loud and clear as did his final words to her. When you’re left with nothing...when you’re left with nothing. That’s what he had done. With his death, he had taken the last thing she had — her job and reputation.
“Good morning, Abby.”
“Mornin’, Robin.”
The nurse smiled. As she looked over Abby’s haggard appearance, she knew the time away from the hospital hadn’t done the quiet detective any good.
Abby paused at the desk and looked toward Sarah’s room. “How’s she doing?”
“See for yourself. Her doctor was just here.”
Moving quickly, Abby stopped just inside the sliding glass door. The wave of silence overwhelmed her. Sarah’s heart monitor was turned off and her respirator was gone!
“Go ahead.” Robin urged her forward.
Moving slowly, she stopped at Sarah’s bedside. With a careful hand, she reached out to touch Sarah’s face for the first time since the savage attack that had almost taken her life. Swelling grossly distorted her features and the dark mottled bruises seemed to be richer in color, but at least the cuts that marred her pale face appeared cleaner and not as angry looking. As gently as she could, Abby ran the backs of her fingers over Sarah’s cheek and lightly brushed back the hair off her forehead. Warm tears ran unheeded down her face.
“I knew you could do it. I knew you wouldn’t give up,” she whispered. “She should wake up soon...right?” she asked Robin who was standing in the doorway.
“When her body and mind are ready.”
Abby leaned her head against the cool metal bars of the bed and watched Sarah’s breathing. The movement was so simple and easy; it filled her with a warm sense of relief.
♥
Abby softly read out loud to Sarah from a book of poetry. Looking up from the pages, she was surprised to see Lincoln standing at the glass. She closed the book, gave Sarah a small kiss on the forehead, and went out to see him. “What? Are you here to arrest me?”
Lincoln chose to ignore her tone of contempt. “I came to see how you’re doing.”
“Fine, thank you,” she answered bitterly.
“And how is she?” He nodded toward Sarah.
“She has a name, Lincoln.”
Lincoln held out his hands in self-defense, “Look, Abby, I didn’t come here to start anything, all right? I came because I’m concerned. Billy’s death must— ”
“Not here! I don’t ever want to hear his name uttered in her presence — ever.”
“Look, maybe I should just go.”
He turned to leave, but Abby reached out to stop him. “Lincoln...I’m sorry.” Abby took a moment and swallowed her anger. “You didn’t deserve that.”
“And you didn’t deserve any of what he did.” The comment stopped her in her tracks, and it gave Lincoln a chance to get a good look at his partner. “You are looking better.”
A small smile broke across her face. “I’ve a reason to.” Abby turned and looked at Sarah.
“How is Sarah doing?”
“They took her off the respirator this morning.”
“That’s good.”
“Yes, it is.” They stood outside the glass door looking in on the patient. Abby could tell by Lincoln’s body language just how uncomfortable he was. “Lincoln, what’s wrong?”
“What?”
“Something’s bothering you. What’s up? If it’s about what happened, I understand. Well, I don’t understand, but Banks didn’t have a choice. Obviously something was found, on him, or near him, and it pointed a finger at me.”
“I can’t tell you anything, Abby, you know that.”
“Yeah, I do and I respect that, but let’s not let this come between us, okay, big guy?” He liked it when she called him that. “I mean, under the circumstances, I’d be looking at me too.”
He looked back at Sarah. “I’m off the
case, also.”
“Ah, Linc, that’s not right.”
“Sure it is, and we both know it, but...”
“But?” She looked at him in question.
“Abby, we have to at least let Banks know Sarah was the reporter.”
“Didn’t we already have this argument?”
He held up his hand to stop her. “I know. You don’t think it was her that wrote the articles, but regardless, it’s her name in black and white.”
“It wasn’t her,” she pleaded. “It can’t be her.” She knew she was trying to convince herself just as much as she was trying to convince him. “It can’t be her, Lincoln. Don’t you understand?” Abby ran her fingers through her hair and then looked back at Sarah. “It can’t be her. Because if it is, then where does that leave us?” She bowed her head.
“Abby, you have to think about this. I know you don’t want to, but you have to. If it wasn’t Sarah, then who? Who else could it have been? Abby, you’re one of the best cops I’ve ever known, and I’d trust your instincts over evidence any day. If you think she didn’t do it, then that’s what I think, too. But,” he held up a finger, “you have to ask yourself— if she didn’t write those stories, who did?”
“The only person who knows more about this case than you and me — Billy.”
“But how could he—”
“You said it yourself — she thought she was working for him. Why couldn’t the paper think she was the one filing the stories?” Abby looked at her partner. “We need to find out how they were receiving the articles.”
“I’ll look into it.”
Abby, with conflict in her face and pain in her eyes, looked at Sarah’s still form lying on the hospital bed. “But what if I am wrong, Lincoln?” she whispered.
“Listen to your heart, Abby,” he said softly, “and to that annoying little voice in your head.”
She reached up and touched the glass, tracing Sarah’s face with her finger.
“Excuse me, are you Detective Quinn?” Robin interrupted.
Lincoln turned and smiled at the nurse. “Yes.”
“There’s a phone call for you at the desk,” Robin gestured back to the nurse’s station. He excused himself and the nurse watched him go with interest.
“That’s your partner?” she asked Abby.
“Yes,” she said proudly. She turned and saw the look on Robin’s face. “He’s happily married to a woman who would kick your ass for what you’re thinking,” she added.
“Darlin', I could almost get arrested for what I'm thinking, “ Robin added with a raised eyebrow and a devilish smile.
Lincoln’s call seemed to be taking a while, which gave her a chance to think. Back in the hospital room, looking down at Sarah’s battered body, and the thick bandage around her neck, Abby had a hard time separating what she knew from what she felt. Part of her didn’t want to believe it could’ve been Sarah who fed the information to the papers, but could it really have been Billy?
Abby was so deep in thought that she didn’t notice Lincoln’s return until he cleared his throat. The moment she turned to face him she knew something else was wrong.
“What’s up? Lincoln?”
He said nothing at first. “Abby...I...” He looked up at his partner, but quickly turned his gaze to Sarah.
She followed his eyes. “What? Is it something about Sarah?”
“No. That was Banks. She wants...uh, Abby, they want you to come in voluntarily for questioning,” he finally said.
“Voluntarily, huh?” She had been expecting the request, but it didn’t soften the blow.
Abby stood up and gently brushed a lock of red hair back off of Sarah’s forehead. “I have to go for a little while, Sarah,” she said quietly.
Lincoln watched her hover over Sarah as she pulled up her bedding and smoothed away the wrinkles, then leaned down to place a kiss onto Sarah’s pale forehead. Lincoln wondered how much more she could take.
“She still seems too small in this bed,” Abby whispered. “I’ll be back soon, I promise.” With a heavy sigh she turned around and faced her partner. “Do you need to cuff me?”
“What? No. This is voluntary, remember?”
“Is it?” Abby asked as he slid the glass door shut behind them.
The small private hospital room was now empty, except for Sarah. Her body lay motionless, but then her fingers started to move…searching for the warm hand that was no longer there.
♥
“But where were you last night?” Webber asked for the second time.
“I’ve already told you.”
“Then tell me again. This time, how about the truth?”
“That was the truth,” Abby snapped back.
“Are you sure? I’ve heard that you have a problem with the truth.”
“Fuck you, Webber!”
“That’s enough, Abby! Back off, Detective,” Lieutenant Banks warned.
Abby was tired and more than a little frustrated at being on the wrong end of an interrogation, and it was starting to show. Lincoln was nowhere to be seen, but Lieutenant Banks was there, leaning against the wall, listening to Webber and Ames question Abby.
“It’s okay, Lieutenant, they’re just trying to do their job. Not well, but they’re trying.” Webber glared at her. “I was at the hospital until around ten o’clock, and then I went to the motel.”
“You went straight there?”
“Yes, straight home. And then straight to bed.”
“Straight there?”
“Yes. Actually, no. I stopped off at a corner store and purchased some groceries.”
“With your credit card?” Ames asked.
“I guess so. I don’t remember.” Abby looked from Ames to Webber, and then to her commander. “How did you know that? You’ve run my credit card already?”
“Just the last week,” Banks answered.
“Great. Maybe it’s time for me to call my lawyer.”
“That is up to you, Abby. This ends whenever you say,” Lieutenant Banks stated.
She waved her hand in dismissal. “Let’s just get on with it.”
“You got groceries...”Ames prodded.
“Yes, I said that.”
“Okay. Why the grocery store on Forty-First? That’s out of your way if you’re coming from the hospital.”
“I was tired when I left the hospital. That’s why I left. I was halfway to my house when I remembered I no longer had a house. Billy burned it down, remember?”
“Allegedly,” Webber interjected.
“Whatever! I turned around, stopped at the first grocery store I found, bought my things, and then headed to my new place.”
“So you went there by mistake?” Webber’s tone dripped with sarcasm.
“Yes, I guess so, in a matter of speaking.”
“For no other reason?”
“No. What difference does it make where I bought a few groceries?”
“Because it’s only two blocks from the motel where Billy Ward had been living.”
“How the hell was I supposed to know that? Huh?” She was tired and her irritability was showing. “If I’d known where he was, I would’ve brought him in.”
“But you didn’t. Instead you brutally beat and castrated him, then threw his body over the side of the footbridge,” said Webber, tossing a picture of Billy’s battered body onto the table in front of her.
“That’s a pile of crap, Webber! We all know there was no evidence of his body going over that bridge. How incompetent are you?”
“I’m not the one under suspicion. You are. You have no alibi and everyone knows you wanted to kill him.”
“I didn’t know I would need an alibi.”
“But you did want to kill him?” Webber insisted.
“I didn’t say that.”
“But you did want to.”
“Yeah, I wanted to kill him. But I didn’t!”
There was a rap on the door and a young uniformed officer handed Lieutenant Banks a f
ile folder. Everyone waited as she perused the documents inside.
“Gentlemen, give us a few moments, please.” Lieutenant Banks locked eyes with Abby, but said nothing until they were alone. Pulling up a chair she sat down and tossed the file onto the table. “Off the record — just you and me — where were you last night?” Banks asked in a hushed tone.
“Off the record?” Abby looked at the large two-way mirror, knowing full well there were more than a few people watching them. Leaning closer to her boss, Abby whispered, “I told you — I went from the hospital, to the grocery store, and then to the motel, where Lincoln called me.” She leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms.
Lieutenant Banks mulled over many questions and their possible answers, but her eyes kept returning to the file folder on the table.
“Abby, as your boss and as your friend, I’m completely aware of everything you’ve been through. I can’t begin to know how you’re feeling, but I know the losses you’ve suffered. There isn’t a person in this building who would blame you for wanting to go after him—”
“Lieutenant, I didn’t kill him!” Abby stated flatly.
After a long moment of hesitation, Lieutenant Banks reached for the file folder on the table. “Then how do you explain that they found your fingerprints on the—”
The door to the room burst open. “Lieutenant, that evidence hasn’t—”
“Get the hell out of my interrogation room, de Barr!” Lieutenant Banks ordered.
The assistant DA froze at the command, his face registering his shock at being dismissed so summarily. “Might I remind you, Lieutenant, that—”
“No, I’ll remind you! This is my squad room, so I suggest you remember that and get out!” The lieutenant pointed at the door.
“I am the Assistant—”
“I don’t give a shit! Get out!”
Her steely stare silenced him. Ronald de Barr was not accustomed to being told what to do; nevertheless, it was her interrogation room and he knew it. He turned and left in a huff.
Abby couldn’t hide her smirk. She pointed her thumb at the closed door. “That won’t sit well with the folks upstairs.”