“Gaylene Striker,” Gerri said.
Emily’s lips twisted in a grimace. “Like I give a fuck about her love life,” she said, the swear word a shock from her little girl lips. “But a jury will.”
“Fucking juries,” Gerri grinned back.
Emily laughed. “I knew we’d get along, Detective.”
“I’ve looked into Daryl Patterson,” Gerri said. “You do realize he’s clean?”
“On the surface.” She hesitated. “No offense, but I’ve been working this longer than you. I’m well aware he’s good at hiding his tracks. But Belinda wasn’t a fool, or one to jump to conclusions.”
“Could Gaylene Striker have convinced her to turn on her husband with false accusations?” Something about the model-tall blonde gave Gerri heartburn.
Emily chewed her lower lip. “I considered that,” she said. “Especially since Gaylene has a restraining order and arrest for stalking another couple. But, from what I could uncover, it was all the act of the husband of one of Striker’s lovers and not a real criminal case.”
She had done her homework. Gerri was impressed.
“The only reason I continued to pursue this,” Emily said, leaning forward again to sift out a file and hand it to Gerri, “was this case that popped up two weeks ago.” Gerri took the offered folder, propped it on her knee, skimmed it.
“Robby Carlisle died in a boating accident?” Gerri looked up. “Who is he?”
“One of Daryl Patterson’s main investors,” she said. “Who started to ask questions himself.”
Well now. “So, you’re thinking Patterson is covering his tracks.”
“Which could be a precursor to fleeing the country.” Emily’s little hands balled into fists. “If he does, we’ve lost him. He has connections in places that we don’t have extradition. And enough money if he runs, he’s gone forever.”
And with two possible murders on his hands. “What do you want to do?”
Emily looked like the question hurt her. “I want to pull him in,” she said, rushing through the words before groaning. “And I don’t.”
Gerri laughed, closed the file. “Perfectionist,” she said before taking a long, contemplative sip of her coffee. It really was delicious. Emily had gone all out. Obviously in an effort to sell the detective on her case. And make her stick her neck out.
Was she willing?
“I’ll put my ass on the line, if you will,” Gerri said. “But, if you screw me on this…”
Emily grinned. “We’ll go looking for jobs together,” she said, clearly relieved to have the detective on her side, the face of someone who usually went it alone. “And I’ll buy the coffee.”
***
***
INT. – 9TH PRECINCT INTERROGATION – MORNING
Emily didn’t screw around. Less than an hour after their conversation, the ADA had Daryl Patterson, Ivan Bruts and the company lawyers—all three of them—parked in interrogation one. At their insistence. Since Gerri had no solid evidence against Patterson, and he was here voluntarily, she had to give him his posse. But, that didn’t keep her from grinning at the CEO from her lonely place behind the desk as if she had his ass in her hands ready to hand to him.
For the first time in a long time, she wasn’t on her own. And it wasn’t Jackson Pierce sitting next to her, feet straining to reach the floor. Emily Pocket’s grim expression would have been hilarious if her intensity mixed with doll-like perfect didn’t scare the bejesus out of Gerri.
She would not want to face this woman in a courtroom.
Unspoken agreement gave Emily the football and Gerri let her run with it, still amazed by the young ADA’s chutzpah. Meanwhile, the detective was still processing her earlier, hurried conversation with Jackson at her desk just a half hour ago while Emily made the arrangements to bring Daryl in.
“Found a kid from the surveillance vid,” her partner said, grabbing her arm to pull her aside, something he’d regret if he ever tried it again. Gerri’s pointed glare at his fingers on her jacket made him scowl and drop his hand. “Mills is bringing him in for questioning.”
“He our shooter?” Gerri nodded to Emily who waited with charming impatience for her to hurry up.
“Doubt it,” Jackson said. “Works at the Melton in the laundry. But he might know who is. The vid shows him wandering around the garage at TOD.”
Gerri had left it for Jackson to deal with, still a bit surprised he was actually a good cop when he put his mind to it.
“Mr. Patterson.” Emily’s little girl voice carried a sharp edge in the dead air of the interrogation room, as though she was trying to sound more authoritative. Gerri had to cough out a laugh behind one hand. “You should be aware of the fact your wife brought serious allegations to me about your conduct with the company, allegations I plan to pursue in court.”
Gerri hated her gut’s reaction to Daryl’s shock. Even as it whispered, innocent, he spun on his lawyers then back to the ADA.
“My wife was mistaken,” he said, sounding flustered. His scent was shocked, hurt, edged with grief. Gerri was ready to pull the plug right then and there, hating she’d have to do that to Emily, when someone knocked on the door.
Pocket’s hazel eyes met Gerri’s with so much irritation she shrugged and went to get it, but slowly, just to prove a point. She liked Emily, but this was her house. The ADA would just have to accept that. Ground rules.
Mills stood on the other side of the door, face pale, eyes shifting away from Gerri a moment before settling on her again.
“Detective,” she whispered loud enough Gerri was sure everyone heard. “You’d better come. Now.”
Mills wasn’t the panic type. And something about the way she held her body rigid and tight clenched Gerri’s gut up into a ball of fear. She didn’t even bother to tell Emily she was leaving, instead stomping from the room, slamming the door behind her. Mills backed off, gesturing at the next one, leading to interrogation two. Gerri jerked it open, the smoked glass rattling in its frame as she did.
And stopped, mouth hanging open, heart pounding in her chest at the sight of the brunette behind the table, Jackson Pierce grinning cruelly behind her.
“Gerri,” Ray whispered, hands shaking.
Hands that were covered in blood.
***
INT. – 9TH PRECINCT INTERROGATION – MORNING
Ray tried very hard not to cry like a little girl as she sat there, shaking and still deep in shock. But it was so hard not to break down as Gerri stared at her, first with surprise, then with growing anger, though whether that anger was aimed at Ray herself or the lurking Jackson Pierce hanging over her shoulder, she didn’t know
Not that it mattered. The focus of attention was enough to finally open her tear ducts and let out the latest torrent of weeping.
Bloody hell and bollocks.
Gerri came to her side, hand reaching for her but not touching her even as the door opened again and CSI Chase entered, a kit in one hand. Ray flinched as the young blonde wouldn’t meet her eyes, opening the shining silver case while Gerri straightened to glare at Jackson
Anger finally focused. Ray was all right with that.
“What the hell happened?” Her red-haired detective friend wasn’t known for her ability to control her temper, but usually Gerri remained in control no matter how pissed she became. From the deep vibration in her voice, the statuesque Amazon was about to lose her shit.
Ray knew the feeling.
Jackson circled around, smirking at Ray with those cold, blue eyes, with his Hollywood lips. “Ask your little friend, here.”
Gerri growled under her breath, but turned to Ray who shivered as the heat of the detective’s intensity washed over her. Everything was so much more precise now, emotions raw and commanding since she’d woken up, stood up to Mummy. Ray snuffled, thinking of her mother and cringed inwardly. She’d be furious; she’d punish Ray and hurt her—
No. Never again. She felt her spine stiffen in response to the surge
of anger that met her old habits. Never. Again. When Ray looked up and grasped Gerri’s gaze with her own, she registered the shock in her friend’s expression before she spoke.
“I have no idea what happened,” she said, voice level and calm. “Except that I woke up in my friend’s room this morning with Detective Pierce breaking down the door. And found Gaylene dead.” Ray’s words quivered as she remembered turning, naked and struggling to cover herself with the red-stained sheet as Jackson burst into the room, gun out. She hadn’t noticed him after that. Not when she looked down and into the clouded, staring eyes of her lover. A single gunshot wound to the forehead, an execution. One Ray missed somehow in the middle of the night.
Gerri’s tension wasn’t helping, but Ray was in control and didn’t care.
“Gaylene Striker?” Damn it, how did Ray forget the tall blonde was one of Gerri’s suspects in the murder of Belinda Patterson? Well, to be honest, she hadn’t forgotten. Just conveniently shoved the fact to the back of her mind so she wouldn’t have to feel guilty over rekindling her flame with Gaylene. Just for one night. No one would ever have to know.
Ray had the worst luck ever.
“I want to press charges against Detective Pierce,” Ray said, letting her anger out for the first time since she could remember. That fucker would pay for humiliating her in front of Officers Mills and Purcell. “He assaulted me at the scene and forced me to dress in front of him.”
Gerri choked on a curse, the creature that lived inside her crawling its way to the surface where only Ray witnessed it. But, it meant the detective was at her breaking point. Ray observed with a moment of cold clarity, of curiosity, before her horror at her attitude cracked the veneer of calm keeping her together. She sobbed into her bloody hands, Chase gently pulling them away from her cheeks to process her.
“You fucking bastard.” Gerri spun, fist pulled back, only Mills’s intercession keeping her from ruining his good looks for the second time. “You fucking bastard.”
Jackson just shrugged, eyes ice cold. “Fuck you, Meyers.”
“You realize by doing so you broke every level of evidence protocol?” Chase’s cutting words spun both detectives around. She was spitting furious, blue eyes snapping fire, but gentle for Ray, as gentle as the gloved hands that scraped blood and debris from under her fingernails onto a soft, white sheet. “I should have been called to the scene, detective. Not left to process here at the station. None of this evidence will be viable, you know that, don’t you?”
Ray looked up, startled out of her weeping, and into Jackson’s face. And saw then, yes, he knew that. Was well aware of what he’d done.
And wondered why he’d done it.
His eyes met hers and, in that instant, she realized he’d saved her. Or thought he had. On purpose. An expression of confusion warred with disgust on Jackson Pierce's face as it flickered to a grimace, his typical snarl of disdain returning.
“She was in the room,” he snarled at Gerri. “For all we know, she killed a suspect in a murder investigation.”
“You’re cracked, Pierce,” Gerri shot back. Clearly she hadn’t seen the instant of understanding that passed between Ray and Jackson. And Ray wasn’t about to make her aware. Something bigger was going on here, something she couldn’t quite unravel. But, she would. And when she did, she’d have a chat with Detective Pierce and find out just what his game was.
The puzzle helped calm her, relax her somewhat. This time when the coldness came, she welcomed it, though part of her swore she’d be wary, watchful. That she would end her own life before she’d allow herself to become like Mummy. Still, Ray could see, as she sank into the vampir power, how appealing the state of depth and calm could be.
So much better than being weak.
Gerri crouched next to Ray as Chase straightened and pointed at the door. “Out, detective,” she snapped at Pierce. He left in a huff, glancing over his shoulder at Ray on the way out. Was that sympathy? She’d never believe it of him. Chase then smiled gently, apologetically, at Ray. “I need your clothes, Doctor.”
Ray stood, feeling like an automaton, as though her body wasn’t her own, fingers fumbling at her clothing as Gerri helped her undress.
“I’m sorry,” Ray whispered. “This wasn’t supposed to happen.”
“No shit.” Gerri grunted, shook her head. “Ray, what about Cici?”
Ah. The judging had started. She wondered if she was straight, would Gerri question her? And stuffed down her resentment. She’d fucking slept with a suspect who ended up dead next to her. Gerri had the right to ask.
“I don’t know.” Truth. She really didn’t. So much was screwed up, convoluted, shattered into a million shining bits she wasn’t sure she’d ever reassemble them. Or want to. Ray clung to the cool presence of her vampir and sighed. “I don’t want to talk about Cici.”
“Ray.” Gerri choked on her name as Chase handed her a thin, white overall. Ray shivered as the soft fabric skimmed over her skin, the hum of the plastic zipper giving her the willies. “Jesus, Ray.”
She nodded to her friend. “Here’s what happened.” She recounted everything she could think of, up to the point of falling asleep, sated and exhausted. “The next thing I knew, Pierce was breaking down the door.”
Gerri paced the interrogation room a moment. “You said there was wine in the room?” Ray nodded. They’d polished off the single bottle. Come to think of it, she’d felt rather odd after.
“You think I was drugged?” Made sense, though part of her wondered. Alcohol had little effect on her. Would drugs have the same trouble with her vampir system? Maybe the combination was enough to knock her out. She opened her mouth for Chase who did a buccal swab, offering her arm for a blood test.
The tip of the needle bit into her skin as Gerri spoke.
“I think it’s possible,” she said. “And would explain why you didn’t wake.”
“Whoever killed Gaylene Striker used a silencer,” Chase said as she frowned over the vial of blood in her hand. “Through a pillow.”
Jackson pushed open the door, expression flat. “We have to take her down to booking,” he said.
“Like hell,” Gerri shot back.
“Agreed.” Mummy shoved her way past Jackson, a skinny, bespectacled man at her back. Ray was shocked to see her mother, so shocked she lost the hit of coolness keeping her together. “My daughter isn’t going anywhere until she’s had time to talk to a lawyer.”
An absolute first, in Ray’s memory. Was Mummy really putting her wellbeing ahead of everything? But no, not from the calculated fury on her mother’s face, the way she glared at her daughter. Just an effort from Mummy to save face.
When her mother crossed to her and grasped her elbow, the old knack of bruising deep with just a touch well in hand, Ray knew the truth “How dare you embarrass me like this?”
The bitch. Ray jerked her arm out of her mother’s grasp and smiled cruelly down at the woman she’d hated and feared since she was a little girl. “Eat shit, Mummy,” she said.
Gerri’s gasping laughter cut off, but not fast enough. The lawyer Victoria brought with her looked confused, but cleared his throat, adjusting his glasses.
“Dr. Hunter and I have things to discuss,” he said. Ray followed him without saying another word. He’d be surprised, wouldn’t he, when she refused to talk to him, either? As if she’d trust anyone her mother sent to represent her. Ray did offer a grin for Gerri who looked more bemused than amused, no matter her initial outburst.
A thrill of discovery climbed Ray's spine. She enjoyed tormenting her mother. How delightful.
That happiness vanished in a wash of memory, a clench of her stomach, as Ray emerged from the interrogation room and almost collided with a tall, balding man in a suit. She looked up into his eyes and, in a flash of cringing embarrassment, remembered where she’d seen him before.
She was so taken aback by the encounter, she stopped in her tracks, registered the fact he wasn’t alone, that he and four o
ther men were heading for the elevator. Hand rising without her permission, voice louder than she’d ever spoken before, Ray ended their exodus with a ringing shout. “That man was at the hotel last night.”
***
INT. – 9TH PRECINCT – MORNING
Ray stood frozen, suddenly conscious of being the center of attention, but not caring, not like she would have only a day or so ago. The calm of the vampir engulfed her as the five men spun and faced her.
“I can assure you,” a frowning man said, “I was nowhere near any hotel last night, miss.” The man at whom she actually aimed her accusation glanced around with a quick nervousness she registered as guilt.
“That’s doctor,” Ray snapped. “Doctor Rachel Hunter. And I wasn’t talking to you.” Dear God, she knew him, though, didn’t she? Recognized him now from the photos Belinda showed her. Of her husband, Daryl. “Mr. Patterson,” she finished as she glared at the man beside him.
“Ivan?” Daryl turned to her target while the scowling man shook his head.
“I have no idea what she’s talking about,” he said.
“You were in the elevator.” Ray turned to Gerri. “He was there. He let me get off on Gaylene’s floor. But he could have come back.”
“Ray.” Gerri leaned close. “If he killed her, why didn’t he shoot you, too?”
“Because he needed someone to pin it on,” Ray whispered back. “I can’t imagine he expected to run into me here this morning, do you?”
Gerri’s green eyes settled into acceptance. “Dr. Hunter,” she said, “you’re free to go for now.” Ray shook her head. “At least go have a shower,” the detective muttered.
Ray hesitated, Mummy hovering in the background, her lawyer waiting for Ray to join him. “Thank you for your concern, Mother,” she said, nodding to the small man. “I won’t be needing either of you.” Ray strode past the woman she would henceforth think of as Mummy no longer, past the frowning lawyer, and followed Mills to the front stairs.
Booty Call (Episode Seven: The NIghtshade Cases) Page 6