Zach lounged in one of the wood and fabric hospital chairs, his feet stretched out and crossed at the ankles, his arms folded, his eyes closed except for a thin slit through which he watched Alex watch a small television set hung from the ceiling by a long metal arm. He adopted the posture mainly because most people left him alone long enough for him to think. Alex was no exception.
He doubted she noticed he watched her or cared if he did. Her entire concern was for the fate of the girl. He wished his focus was as singular, but it wasn’t. His mind kept drifting back to what she’d said in the car. He’d known back then that Alex was having a tough time of it. Sammy hadn’t been blind to Alex’s wishes; he simply dismissed them as being unimportant compared to his own. Though Zach had loved Sammy, he had been aware of his faults. He hadn’t wanted to be like Sammy or even the same kind of cop Sammy was. Sammy hadn’t been a crooked cop, but he hadn’t been quite clean either. He survived by having more dirt on others than they had on him.
If she thought his sole purpose in coming around was to be with Sammy she was mistaken. Until she’d spoken, he imagined she remembered him as a friend, someone she’d looked up to until the night he’d gone and ruined that. He hadn’t considered she regarded him as one big reminder of a time she’d rather forget.
We knew each other once. It doesn’t have anything to do with ... who we are today. Did she really mean that or was that something to say to back him off? He couldn’t speak for her, but the night they’d spent together had changed him. It had stripped him of even the pretense of being an honorable man, made him question himself and wonder if his brothers hadn’t been right about him from the get go. He’d lost himself for a while—until he met Sherry, the first woman in a long time to interest him in more than a temporary way. He’d married her because it seemed to be the next step in the logical course of events, but in his heart he knew he’d screw that up, too. It hadn’t taken him long to prove himself right.
And now here they were again. She was wrong about him, though. He didn’t view seeing her again as a stroll down memory lane, rather a chance to redeem himself a little in her eyes. But he’d give her what she wanted. He’d back off. The last thing he wanted was to cause her any more distress than he already had.
The television was tuned to a cable station flashing local news stories. An Asian woman with big hair spoke while a helicopter’s eye view of the scene showed a CSU tow truck removing the car. The sound was too low for him to hear what was said, but there was McKay being interviewed by another woman. He was really beginning to hate that bastard.
He refocused his gaze on Alex, wondering what she was thinking. She seemed utterly calm, the slight movement of her left foot the only clue to any distress. She shifted, recrossing her legs. “I would really love to know what that man has against me.”
Zach wanted to know the same thing. He knew McKay believed she’d been in contact with Thorpe or rather that he’d tried to contact her. A dump of her phone records confirmed that he’d called, but not that she’d spoken to him or that Thorpe had even identified himself. For all anyone knew Thorpe had breathed heavy a few times and hung up. The calls were too brief for much more than that.
Aside from that, he suspected McKay had some personal stake in the outcome of this case, though Zach would be damned if he knew what it was. From what he understood, McKay pretty much kept to himself, having few friends on the force in whom he might confide. Truthfully, though, Zach didn’t really care what McKay’s problem was as long as he kept it to himself. Alex didn’t need or deserve any shit from him right now. And with the crime scene wrapping, the others would start showing up soon. No one would want to be left out of the loop. Zach only hoped he made it through the night without having to go at it with McKay.
Smitty was the first to show up, bearing a tray from Dunkin’ Donuts. “So what did I miss?”
Zach stood as did Alex. “Where the hell have you been?”
“Enjoying that visit with the in-laws in Connecticut I told you about. Real shame to cut it short,” he said with a roll of his eyes that said it was anything but. To Alex he said, “Help yourself. They’re all light and sweet.”
Alex took one of the cups. “Thank you.” She returned to the seat she’d occupied and crossed her legs.
Zach turned back to Smitty. He’d forgotten about Smitty’s trip and the day off he planned to take tomorrow. Zach took a cup from the tray. “Thanks.”
Smitty took the remaining cup from the tray and tossed the tray in the garbage pail by the door. “You got a minute?” He nodded toward the doorway.
“Sure.” Alex glanced at him as he walked toward the door, but said nothing. A pair of uniformed officers stood in the hall. Each of them cast a look at him and Smitty before returning to their conversation.
Zach leaned his shoulder against the wall, facing Smitty. “What’s up?”
“I heard on the way over here. They ran the girl’s prints. No hits.”
So they still didn’t know her identity. “What about missing persons?”
“They’re checking. So far nothing. Nothing in the car either.”
“Shame,” Zach said. The girl deserved to have whatever family she possessed here pulling for her. But so far, Smitty hadn’t told him anything he couldn’t have said in front of Alex, nothing he wouldn’t tell her himself in another minute. “Anything else?”
“How’s she holding up?”
Zach almost laughed. Smitty was worried about Alex? What was it about her that seemed to bring out the protective instincts of every man who met her, with the exception of McKay and her own father? Especially since she’d never appreciated any attempts at coddling her. “Careful, Smitty, your paternalism is showing.”
“I can’t help it if she reminds me of my own kid. I wouldn’t want her involved in this mess either.”
Zach said nothing to that. Smitty’s daughter taught high school English in a school in Hunts Point. She was probably a lot tougher than her old man gave her credit for.
The double doors leading to the surgical suites opened, drawing Zach’s attention. A single grim-faced doctor in green scrubs came through, the man he’d spoken to before but whose name he didn’t remember without consulting what he’d written down.
Zach straightened, expecting to hear bad news. That might be his cynicism showing, but that’s what he’d expected from the beginning.
“What is it, Doctor?”
The doctor brushed his hand over his head removing his cap to reveal a shock of salt-and-pepper hair. “I wish I had better news for you. We got the young lady stabilized, but she hasn’t regained consciousness. We’re hoping once the swelling in her brain comes down.”
“Where is she now?”
“They’ll be transferring her to the ICU in a minute. The SARS nurse is finishing up. I’m sorry, but we couldn’t get to it before now.”
Zach nodded. The SARS nurse was trained in evidence and information collection following a rape. Sooner was better than later when it came to evidence collection, but saving the girl’s life was the priority. They’d have to live with any contamination or loss of evidence.
“Is there any family?”
“We’re still trying to figure out who she is.”
“She’ll be admitted as a JD, then.”
Zach extended his hand toward the doctor. “Thank you.”
Sighing, the doctor shook his hand. “As I said, I wish I had better news.”
The doctor turned to walk away.
“Can we see her?”
That came from Alex. Once he’d found out the girl’s condition, Zach had planned to take Alex home. Smitty could handle getting any other information that was needed and he was feeling a bit protective of Alex himself at the moment. But he could tell by the steel in her expression and the fact that she didn’t look at him that she wouldn’t back down.
“If you wait until they bring her down to the ICU.”
It took nearly an hour before a pair of orderlies
flanked by a pair of uniforms brought her downstairs. If it weren’t for the coffee Smitty had brought, Zach was sure he’d be snoring in a chair by now. But Alex seemed filled with a sort of nervous energy unattributable to the effects of caffeine. He wished he could pull her into his arms and soothe her, but she’d made it plain she didn’t want that from him. So he simply stood beside her watching through the broad windows as the staff worked to hook the girl up to several monitors as well as a breathing machine, the hiss of which he could hear even through the room’s closed door.
Alex rocked back on her heels, her arms crossed in front of her. “Good God, Zach, she’s such a baby.”
Unlike the other victims, this girl’s face had been left mostly intact, allowing them to see the youthfulness of her features. “I know, baby.” The words were out of his mouth before he had time to consider the endearment at the end of them.
Alex seemed not to notice. “What are you going to do next?”
In a couple of hours he’d see about hooking up with his friend who worked computer stings on pedophiles. Then in the afternoon he’d go to the autopsy on the last girl. He didn’t tell Alex that. “Right now, I’m taking you home.” In case she planned to protest, he showed her a little steel of his own in the gaze he sent her way.
“All right, as long as you let me know how she’s doing.”
“Of course.” He only hoped that when the time came he’d have something good to tell her.
Dawn had started to spread across the horizon as he pulled up in front of Alex’s house fifteen minutes later. She hadn’t said one word to him during the trip, sitting with her legs crossed, her arms folded, and her eyes closed, and he’d let her be. But even when he pulled to a stop and cut the engine she didn’t stir. She’d probably fallen asleep. “Alex?”
She inhaled and her lower lip quivered. That surprised him. He’d never seen Alex cry, except the one time he was responsible. Even at her father’s funeral she remained dry-eyed and stoic. “Are you all right?”
She swiped at her eyes. “I’m fine. Just overtired, I guess.”
He knew she meant that as an explanation for her tears, but none was necessary. He understood what she felt—sorrow for the girl combined with a profound frustration that they hadn’t been able to stop this guy before he got to her. He felt it, too. Given the choice of her honest reaction and a facade, he’d take the former. The trouble was she hadn’t offered him that choice.
“You don’t have to put a brave face on it, Alex. I get enough of that from the folks at home.” Without thinking, he lifted his hand to wipe away with his thumb a drop of moisture she’d missed.
She looked away from him, lowering her head so that he couldn’t see her face. “Zach,” she started.
He cut her off, since he knew what she was about to say. “I know. I shouldn’t have done that.” He dropped both hands to his lap. “I don’t want to hurt you, Alex. I never have.”
“I know that.”
Did she? Not as far as he could tell. “But you still don’t trust me.”
Her head came up and she regarded him with an expression he didn’t understand. “Trust has nothing to do with it, at least not as far as you are concerned.”
What the hell did that mean? That she trusted him or that her lack of trust in him didn’t factor into her feelings at the moment or something else?
Before he got a chance to question her on that, she unclipped her seat belt. “I’d better go. I have to be in my office in less than an hour.” She opened the car door and slid out. “Thanks for the lift, both times.”
She slammed the car door closed and hurried up her walk. If he’d thought it would help the situation he would have gone after her. As it was, he was tired and disheartened and every time he clashed with her he came out the loser. He didn’t want to clash any more with her right now.
He waited until she’d made it inside her door before he started the engine. He’d head home himself, change clothes, and get back to the precinct and start in. As long as the wicked weren’t sleeping the weary wouldn’t get any rest either.
He slipped in bed beside her hoping she wouldn’t waken. He only planned to sleep for a couple of hours before getting back to the job. He could have done the same at the station house, but then he wouldn’t have gotten to lie next to her, to check on her to make sure she was all right.
He’d barely made it beneath the covers when her head popped up and she whispered a weak, frightened “John?”
“It’s me, baby. Come here,” he whispered back.
She turned into him and he wrapped his arms around her. She was shaking and her breath fanned across his chest in shallow, rapid puffs. He smoothed his hand through her hair and down her back, whispering words of comfort to soothe her.
Damn. They’d been to the point where what Thorpe had done to her was merely a distant memory. They’d been through the night terrors and the cold sweats, the trembling, with fear, not desire, every time he touched her. She still wouldn’t let her kids in the house until she, baseball bat in hand, made sure it was clear and sneaking up behind her was likely to get you a blow to the head thanks to a self-defense course she’d taken. But the worst of it had been behind them. Then Thorpe had resurfaced.
He couldn’t blame her for being terrified that this newer, more vicious Thorpe might come back for a repeat visit. He feared that, too, though in an odd way he owed his being with her to the man. She’d been in the courthouse to testify against Thorpe while he’d been there on some other case, he couldn’t remember which one now. She’d been standing against a wall, her eyes closed, obviously trying to compose herself. He’d recognized her immediately since he’d spent four years at Columbus High School lusting alternately for her or one of her friends, the cool girls who paid no attention to his geeky self.
She confessed to him later that the only reason she’d accepted his offer to go for a cup of coffee was that she’d remembered him, too, though she’d pretended not to at the time. She’d felt safe with the grown-up nerd boy John McKay, who was also a cop. She hadn’t explained either what she’d been doing in the building, and he hadn’t pressed her for anything except her phone number. It didn’t take him long to figure out she’d given him a fake one, nor much longer than that to ferret out the real number or the real reason she’d been there.
He’d wanted to kill Thorpe from that moment. That desire deepened as he discovered how deeply Thorpe’s attack had wounded her. She’d been turned from a strong, confident girl to a woman who panicked every time someone touched her. Thorpe wasn’t even convicted for what he’d done to her since his semen wasn’t found in her body. But there was no doubt in her mind or his that Thorpe had been the one to attack her. Thorpe had gotten six lousy years, not nearly enough for all the lives he’d destroyed.
But Thorpe wouldn’t get away this time. He didn’t care what anybody said, he wasn’t going to turn Thorpe loose unless he had ironclad proof he wasn’t involved. He didn’t intend to let Dr. Alex Waters off the hook either. If she’d done her job the first time, Melissa wouldn’t have been in any danger in the first place. Thorpe would have been locked up some place where he couldn’t harm anyone.
“John?”
He blinked, coming back to himself. “What is it?
“They found another girl tonight, didn’t they?” A wracking shiver accompanied her words.
“Yeah, they did.” He wasn’t used to lying to her so he didn’t bother. “She’s still holding on, but it’s anybody’s guess if she’ll make it.”
“Oh.” She sniffled and a moment later he felt a line of moisture from her tears on his chest.
He hugged her to him, wishing the pain she felt were his, not hers. “Shh, baby,” he whispered.
“You have to catch him, John.”
“I will.” That was a promise he didn’t mind making to her since it was one he intended to keep. He’d find some way to draw Thorpe out of his hidey-hole and that would be it. Thorpe would pay for what he’d do
ne to Melissa and more. And then he’d see to it that Dr. Waters got what she deserved as well.
Thirteen
Zach walked in his front door a little after seven, calling Stevie’s name. He’d called her from the road to let her know he was on his way home and gotten no answer. He got no answer now as he walked through the first floor, noting the living room, kitchen, and dining room lights were on though there was no sign of his niece. He found her at the top of the stairs in the small bedroom he used as an office on occasion. She was sitting at his desk, her eyes on the computer screen in front of her, a set of earphones hanging from her ears.
He leaned his shoulder against the doorjamb, feeling a combination of relief and annoyance. He flashed the lights to draw her attention. She drew in a startled breath and swiveled around to face him. “Uncle Zach. I didn’t know you were home.”
“Do the words ‘my name is not Con Edison’ mean anything to you?”
“What?” She pulled the earphones from her ears.
“Never mind. Don’t you have school today?”
“I was just killing time before the bus got here. I hope you don’t mind me using your computer.”
“Not at all.” He’d never set any ground rules for computer use, though he probably should have. “As long as you behave yourself.”
She cast him a droll look, as if his suggestion were too little too late. “Now you sound like my mom.” She turned back to the computer. Even from where he stood he could tell she was shutting it down as a means of preventing him from seeing what she’d been up to.
He thought of Ronnie Hassler, the girl met Thorpe on the Internet. “Do you have one of those Yourplace accounts?”
“Yeah. Most of the kids I know do. Why?”
“You don’t give out any personal information, do you? A phone number or an address? What school you go to?”
She spun around in the chair to face him, a patient expression on her face. “Have you noticed that my dad is a cop? Uncle Jon is a cop? My best friend Heather’s dad is a cop? What do you think they all have in common?”
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