“He’s trying to—”
“Maybe. Maybe he is. Or maybe you stepped over the line.”
“I did not.” I cleared my throat. “You’re right about me passing off cases, and I’m sorry. I’ll apologize to my team. Today—I thought I could get him to slip up. You know how close we are, if we can get his DNA we have him.” I paused. “You heard Maggie Van Allen. She was a reliable witness. It wasn’t fair that her ID was tossed out.”
The air was let out of Ramirez and he sank into his chair, his broad shoulders seeming to deflate. He rubbed a hand over his weathered face and said, “Our job isn’t always easy, Selena,” he said. “We face criminals every day, people we know are guilty, and we can’t always stop them. Early in my career, barely out of rookie status, I responded to a domestic violence call. A woman had burned her three-year-old daughter’s arm on the stove. She claimed it was an accident, but I saw that little girl’s eyes and I took her away, to the hospital, and told the doctors that I thought the mother was lying. They came back with inconclusive on abuse and passed it over to social services. But the crux of the problem was that while the bureaucrats were trying to follow all the laws and protect the rights of the mother, the little girl was put back in the home with weekly social worker visits.” Ramirez stared me in the eyes. “The little girl was named Regina. I was at her funeral six months later. The mother pled to involuntary manslaughter and got ten years. Regina deserved to live, deserved a mother who hugged her, not hit her. I know it wasn’t fair then, and what happened to Keller’s five victims wasn’t fair to them, or that Keller has friends in high places that are making our job impossible. But our hands are tied—we can’t touch him right now.”
Ramirez straightened his spine and started moving files off his desk. “The case is at homicide now.”
“I’d like to assist—”
He put up his hand. “Don’t. You’re on administrative leave as of today. You can come back after you talk to the police psychologist.”
“You want me to talk to the shrink? But you just said—”
“It’s not what you’re doing, Detective. It’s how it’s affecting you. Joe told me what happened in the courthouse today.”
My partner hadn’t believed me, but worse, he’d repeated his misperception. I was empty.
I pulled my badge from my pocket and put it on Ramirez’s desk. I removed my gun from its holster and put it on top of the badge. My boss just watched me, and maybe if I cared I’d have noticed then that he looked as depressed as I felt.
I walked out. Right into the middle of another downpour.
I didn’t notice the passage of time, didn’t much think about anything except searching my soul for answers that couldn’t be found.
Could I stay on the job with people who didn’t trust me? Did I even want to? Had I crossed the line? If so, how? How many women were going to be hurt because Keller was well-connected?
I found myself at Gabriel’s loft well after dark, rubbing the key between my fingers, not knowing what I should do. If I should even be here. But I knocked on his door. Quietly. Maybe thinking he wouldn’t hear me. Or that he wasn’t home. I hoped he wasn’t home. I hoped he was.
Greg Keller knew everything about me. All the secrets I’d kept from everyone—my brother, my partner, the police department—and he knew.
He’d emotionally raped me. I felt as raw as I’d had twelve years ago when I’d trusted the wrong guy and he drugged me.
The door opened. Gabriel stood there wearing jeans and a button-down shirt, a glass of red wine in his hand. And for a moment, I thought he had company.
“I’m disturbing you.”
“I was expecting you.” He took my arm and pulled me inside. “You’re drenched.”
I had forgotten. Dinner, eight. “I—”
“Shh.” He hugged me though I was dripping onto his beautiful hardwood floor. I’d barely noticed while I walked across town that the rain had soaked through all layers of my clothing, but now I began to shake, as much from the cold as anguish, and relief. Relief to be here, with Gabriel.
He steered me into his living room. “Wait.” He left the room and returned with a towel and bathrobe. I took both. The bathrobe smelled like Gabriel.
“Thank you.” I went into the bathroom and stripped. Even my panties and bra were soaked from the rain. How long had I wandered? I’d parked at my apartment, but hadn’t wanted to go inside, too depressed, too lonely, so I walked aimlessly, lost in miserable thoughts—until I ended up here.
Maybe my subconscious knew this was where I needed to be.
I returned to the living room and Gabriel had food on the table. “It’s lasagna. I was keeping it warm.”
“Homemade?” I asked.
He feigned shock that I had even asked. “Of course. My mother’s Italian; she’d skin me alive if I bought pre-made anything. She’d even frown on the pre-made noodles.”
“Your mom makes her own pasta?”
Gabriel nodded and pulled out a chair for me. I felt oddly ladylike, even in the bathrobe.
“I don’t know if I can eat,” I said. I picked up the wine glass and sipped.
“You will eat. You need energy.”
I ate, because Gabriel wanted me to. By the third bite I was crying.
He took my hand and led me over to the couch, putting my head on his shoulder. “Shh,” he said. “Lena, I’m here.”
“I screwed up,” I said, trying to make the tears stop, but they refused. “I wanted his coffee cup. Courts have upheld time and again DNA collected from items that are thrown away or left in a public place. I knew his schedule, followed him, watched him, and then—he looked at me. And he knew what I wanted. He taunted me! “And still, I pushed him. Wanting him to slip up, but he’s been playing me all along.”
“I don’t understand.”
I had never told anyone what happened twelve years ago. No one—not even the Sacramento Police Department when they hired me. I’d lied on my questionnaire. Maybe I had been in denial, or maybe I just didn’t want to answer any questions about that day.
“Twelve years ago, I was a freshman at San Diego State. Pre-law. My dad was a cop, my brother was a cop, I didn’t want to be one, but I wanted to be a D.A. Nailing the coffin tight on the scum who people like my dad and brother arrested.
“It was a gorgeous spring day. I went to the beach after my classes. I used to love the ocean.” Except now it reminded me of pain and humiliation.
“The T.A. in my favorite class invited me out. He’d been flirting with me all semester. I wasn’t used to the attention—I was tall and homely and awkward, especially back then.”
“You’re beautiful,” Gabriel said and took my hand.
I stared at our enjoined hands, gathered the strength to continue. “It was a nice date, then he—I had a couple beers. In one he slipped me a mickey. I told him no, but I couldn’t fight back, and then I didn’t think it was really happening, like I was looking at a stranger being—” I took a deep breath. “He left me on the beach where he’d raped me. I remember the waves most of all, the sand in my mouth. But it was unreal.”
I couldn’t look Gabriel in the eye; I stared on our hands. My knuckles were white with tension. “I could lie and say I forgot everything that happened. I remembered everything. I was confused and scared and very angry mad. Angry at him and at myself.
“I don’t remember how I got home. I think I walked. It was a couple miles. When I woke up, I was in my own bed. I was sticky and sore and bleeding. I showered until the water was cold, and then stayed there, completely paralyzed. Then I drank. A lot. I didn’t report it until the next day. To the campus police. It didn’t go over well. The guy I accused said it was consensual sex. He was respected and well liked and had a rich donor father. The professor he T.A.’d for stood by him. But ultimately, there was no evidence. I still had my clothes, but they said they couldn’t do anything about that. I should have gone to the hospital. I should have gone to them first. I
should never have showered, or gotten drunk, or anything. I was so stupid! My dad had been a cop! I knew what to do if I was ever attacked, but I was nineteen and in complete denial. I never told my dad or my brother. Not then, not now. I told no one.
“But,” I continued, “I lied on my employment application. Under penalty of perjury, I lied and said I’d never been a victim of a sexual assault. No one knew, because I never pursued it. The campus police made me feel cheap and stupid, like I had sex because I wanted to, but regretted it later. But Greg Keller knows.”
Something inside me had broken, and I didn’t know how to fix it.
“How does he know?”
“He got the file. He knew the details.”
“He told you?”
I nodded, wiped away my tears with the bathrobe sleeve.
“What happened?”
“He’s been playing with me all along. The courthouse this morning—Joe walked in and Keller acted like I had nearly attacked him. I didn’t!”
“You don’t have to defend yourself with me, Lena.”
“Joe didn’t believe me. And then this afternoon, I followed him, and now he’s threatening to sue. Ashley’s case was moved to homicide. I—I was suspended. Ramirez wants me to see a shrink.” I barked out of laugh that sounded crazy to me. “Maybe I need one.”
“You don’t.” He kissed me firmly. “The world has gone insane, not you.”
“I’ll lose my job. If he turns over those files, my career’s over.”
“Hardly.”
I shook my head, touched the side of Gabriel’s face and looked at him. “I’m a victim of sexual assault. That alone doesn’t keep me off the force. Lying on my employment questionnaire is a felony, but even if I got around that somehow, or appealed, I’d be out of sex crimes.” I considered everything I knew about the case, and about me. “I did take a lot about this case personal. I saw the parallels and maybe I denied that it affected me. But I know they’re two different cases, and I’m not seeking justice for Ashley, or any of the other victims I’ve helped in the twelve years I’ve been on the force, solely because justice was denied in my case. I’ve never faced a criminal so brazen, so confident that he won’t be caught, so taunting.”
“You’re good at your job because you empathize with the victims. There’s nothing wrong with that, Lena.”
“Judge Healy already accused me of having a vendetta against Keller. If I do nail that bastard, his attorney will get the case thrown out. At least cast enough doubt to question the evidence. Especially because the only way I’ll get his DNA short of catching him in the act is following him for the next umpteen years until he screws up and tosses a coffee cup in a public garbage can!”
Gabriel held me tight, stroking my hair. “You’re the most dedicated, smartest cop I know.”
“Not today.”
“There’s something else, something you haven’t told me.”
“This isn’t enough?”
“What are you keeping locked inside, Lena?” Gabriel asked. “What did he do to you?”
“He didn’t do anything, not physically.”
“But?”
My voice hitched. “I shouldn’t be scared. Dammit, I’m a cop!”
“I’m scared when I face a dying human being in the operating room, but I still do everything in my power to save that person. I’m scared when I lose someone, thinking I didn’t do enough, that someday God will show me if I had only been smarter or better, more people would have lived.”
I stared at him, the tears I thought were gone returning. “I’ve never seen you scared.”
“I’ve never seen you scared. But we both are. The difference between people like us and other people is that even when we’re scared, we do our job. It’s who we are.” He kissed me lightly. “I’m lucky I found a kindred spirit.”
I rested my head on his shoulder and relaxed. I might have fallen asleep, just for a few minutes, but when I opened my eyes, I realized Gabriel deserved to know my fears.
“Keller threatened to come after me. I don’t think he would—he knows I can defend myself. But I felt naked without my gun today. What if I couldn’t fight him off? Or worse, what if it’s just that, a threat, to keep me scared that someday he will come after me?”
“What did your boss say?”
“I didn’t tell him the details. He wasn’t in a mood to listen to me. I just feel so lost, Gabriel.”
“You’ve been found, Lena. And I’m not letting you go.”
Chapter Eight
I showered and Gabriel warmed up dinner. Purging my secrets made me feel physically lighter, as if the secrets themselves had weight.
When I sat at the table, I found a white rose in a bud vase next to my plate. I stared at it for a long minute, surprised at the wistfulness and hope that rose up inside. Could something so simple as a rose melt me?
Gabriel kissed me lightly on the lips. He poured two glasses of wine and sat across from me. We chatted about nothing serious over the meal, and I drank three glasses of wine. Enough to drown today, but not enough to forget tonight.
I rose to clear the dishes, but Gabriel took my plate from my hands and put it back on the table. “They’ll wait.” He smiled, took both my hands, and led me to his bedroom.
I’d been here before, but tonight felt more important than the nights that preceded it. He pulled off his shirt, then untied the sash on the robe I wore, letting it fall to the ground. “I love you, Selena Black.”
My heart flipped. “I—”
“Shh,” he murmured as he kissed me. “It’ll come.”
I wanted to love Gabriel. I wanted to tell him, then sing it from the rooftops. But the emotional roller coaster I’d been on during the last twenty-four hours had drained me. What if he didn’t believe me? What if I didn’t believe myself?
He kissed me firmly, his hands entwined with mine, as he pushed me onto his soft, plush bed.
Making love to Gabriel had always been full of lust and passion, both of us wanting to enjoy each other to the fullest. Sometimes it had gotten wild.
But tonight, he was exactly how I needed him to be. Firm, determined, but gentle. He explored with his mouth, from top to bottom, slowly. My body went limp as Gabriel smoothed and massaged each muscle, with both his thumbs and his mouth. When he entered me, there were no thoughts left, just my nerves crying out in joy and ecstasy. Our rhythm was perfect, starting slow, building to the nearly unbearable crescendo until I cried out his name and held onto him as if I would drown.
Gabriel lay next to me, pulling me close as we spooned together. He kissed my cheek and whispered, “I love you.”
I love you too.
The steady drumming of rain against the skylights lulled me into a deep sleep.
I woke up incrementally from being cold. The rain still fell, but softer now, the deluge over. I shivered, and reached for Gabriel. He wasn’t there.
I opened my eyes and the bathroom light clicked off. He crossed over to the bed. “I didn’t mean to wake you,” he whispered as he slipped back between the sheets.
His body was cold, but I snuggled against him, wrapping my hands around his neck. His hair was damp, and I almost asked why he needed to shower in the middle of the night, then he kissed me, his hands on my naked body, touching me just right, until I couldn’t think at all.
I woke up late, but didn’t care. I had no job to go to today. Gabriel had breakfast ready.
“I’m going to get fat if you feed me like this.”
“You don’t eat properly. Most cops don’t.” He kissed me.
After we ate, Gabriel drove me home on his way to the hospital. After yesterday, I didn’t think I could be happy. But for the first time in years, I felt free.
I would talk to the police shrink and get a clean bill of mental health. I had problems, just like any cop on the street, but nothing that hindered me from doing my job. If anything, I was better because I understood. I empathized with the victims, and in my division that was a
plus.
When I got my badge and gun back, I’d do my job the only way I know how: with passion. And when I was off, I’d put it aside and give Gabriel my time and attention.
I wanted to have a real life. And someone like Gabriel fit. He fit very, very well.
My house phone was ringing. Odd, few people had that number.
“Hello?”
“Selena, where have you been?” It was Joe.
“I don’t understand.”
“Get down to the station. Now.”
“What happened?”
“Keller was murdered.” Joe added a low voice, “No one could find you. I hope you have an alibi, because after yesterday…” He let his sentence trail off.
I was so stunned into complete silence, trying to absorb two key facts.
Keller was dead. Murdered.
I needed an alibi. Joe asked me about an alibi.
“Selena, are you there?”
“Dead? He’s dead?”
“Shot in his house. Sometime last night. It just hit the news as well, but—where were you?”
“I was nowhere near Greg Keller.”
“Ramirez wants you.”
“I’m coming.”
I listened to KFBK news driving to the station as the reality of the situation hit me. Keller was dead. Who? Why? I was silently pleased, but angry with myself that I was happy about another human being killed, however deserving. Vigilantes caused as many problems as the criminals they targeted.
What upset me the most, however, was that Keller was dead and I wouldn’t have the satisfaction of proving that he was a rapist and a killer. Would he be buried as a victim, a practical saint for all the work he did for the Attorney General? Or would the accusations follow him to the grave?
I wanted to look Greg Keller in the eyes and say, “You’re under arrest. You have the right to remain silent.” But I would never have the chance to read him his Miranda rights or put the cuffs on his wrists or lock him in a holding cell.
But in the end, there was one truth that gave me peace: he wouldn’t be hurting any more women in the River City.
I walked into the station less than thirty minutes after Joe’s call. Ramirez bellowed for me to go to his office.
Guns and Roses Page 16