by J. H. Croix
“I have to work today,” he said.
I smiled before I took a sip of coffee. This was a man after my own heart. He even knew how to make coffee. “This is delicious,” I said, lifting my mug.
He smiled slightly. “I like coffee.”
“I figured you had to work, what with the uniform,” I said, gesturing to him with a wink. “Can I do a ride along?”
He threw his head back with a laugh. “No, Jana. You can't do a ride along. Don't you have to work?”
“It’s Saturday, so I don't have to go to the office. When do we get to have dinner again?” I asked.
He was quiet, something flickering in the back of his eyes, before he lifted a shoulder in a slow shrug.
“When would you like to have dinner again?”
I eyed him, taking a long swallow of my coffee. What I wanted to say was tonight, but I was a little worried about how crazy I was for him. Like stupid crazy. I thought perhaps I should force myself to wait.
“How about next weekend?”
He nodded smoothly, not missing a beat. “Next weekend it is.”
Chapter 9
Finn
I closed the door to the interview room behind me and walked down the bustling hallway into my office. I sank into my desk chair with a sigh. Just as I was about to turn on my computer and check my email, Eli stepped into my office.
“Hey man, what's up?” he asked.
I leaned back in my chair. “Hey mate. Not much. Dealing with a couple of interviews this morning. You?”
He slipped into the chair across my desk. “Had a long night. Couple of parties on campus and a few fights broke out. Nothing more annoying than dealing with a bunch of drunks when you're trying to clear things up.”
I chuckled. “Drunks aren’t the best witnesses.”
Eli rolled his eyes. “I'd say not. I figure they'll be waking up soon, and we'll deal with the mess this morning.” He angled his head to the side. “So I heard you're handling the assault investigation for Ray Sutton,” he commented, referring to an arrest two nights prior. Ray Sutton was a candidate for Mayor of Seattle and in the midst of a close race.
“It's gonna be a bloody mess,” I replied.
He chuckled and then sobered quickly. “What were the arresting charges?”
“Fourth degree assault. The two responding officers didn’t even raise it up to domestic violence assault. It sounds much worse than misdemeanor DV charges if you ask me. She had a bruised jaw and marks on her neck.”
Eli groaned and shook his head. “You’re fucking kidding me.”
“Mate, I wish I was. Now I'm stuck trying to figure out where to go from here. I have a meeting with the DA later today.”
“Who’s the attorney on the case?”
“Becca McNamara,” I answered. Becca was one of a number of DA’s we worked with on a regular basis.
He flashed a grin. “Good. She doesn't mind a fight.”
“Most certainly not. Bloody relieved she’s handling this.”
Eli nodded. “You wanna grab some lunch?”
“Sure. I could use a break.”
I pushed out of my chair, snagging my phone and glancing down to see a text from Jana.
When you said next weekend, what did you mean?
I paused in the hallway to reply, laughing to myself.
The weekend would be Friday and Saturday.
Sliding my phone back into my pocket, I walked beside Eli down the street, making our way to Pike’s Place Market. This was one of my favorite places to grab lunch. The choices were varied, and everything was good. Eli made his way down to one of the Thai places, while I snagged something from a bakery and sandwich place. We met up again at a cluster of tables looking out over the water. My phone buzzed in my pocket.
Oh, does that mean we get to have dinner Friday and Saturday?
I couldn't help but grin. Jana followed her text with a picture of a cake in the shape of breasts. I laughed out loud, forgetting Eli was sitting across from me.
“What's so funny dude?” he asked.
I looked up and shrugged. “Silly text from a friend.”
He accepted my answer at face value. I wasn't up for explaining and certainly didn't want to show him the cake breasts. Not that I would be embarrassed about it, but it would say more about what was going on with Jana than I wanted. I ignored her text for now and put my phone away. After we finished eating, we returned to the office, and I got to work reviewing the notes from the various interviews from the assault.
Eli was right. It was going to be messy. Ray Sutton was a candidate in the latest Seattle Mayoral election. He was a family values guy on paper and in the media. Privately, he appeared to be a full-blown violent asshole. He’d badly bruised his wife's jaw and left fingerprint bruises on her neck. The team on call had responded to an assault report from a neighbor. My guess was there probably wouldn't have even been a call if there hadn’t been a witness. Ray Sutton was drunk and the door to their townhouse had been left open. A witness saw him haul off and punch her. When she fell to the floor, they witnessed him grab her around the neck.
According to the report, Sutton kicked the door shut with his foot at that point. His wife wasn't talking, although she'd received medical treatment and had apparently spoken with the domestic violence advocate at the hospital. Since then, Sutton’s media team had shut her up quick. But, we had a witness, and I had Becca McNamara on the case. She didn't mind a court fight, and she didn't give a bloody damn about politics.
I tapped the speaker button on my phone and called her.
“Becca, how are you today?”
“If it's not my favorite British cop,” she said by way of greeting. “I hear you're stuck with the Sutton case.”
“Aye, I am. What are you thinking?”
“I'm not happy with the original charges,” she replied swiftly.
“Don't blame you. I've already talked with the responding team. I don’t have a good answer for you, other than they’re young and didn’t handle the pressure from Sutton’s attorney well. He was on site before they were.”
“I know, but it doesn’t change the fact we have a good case. We don't need his wife as a witness. We have an eyewitness. Do you know if she's staying with him?”
“Think so.”
“I was hoping you could talk with her,” Becca said. “You're good with anxious witnesses. She might relax when she talks to you. Our case will be stronger if she’s willing to testify. Right now, they're only allowing interviews with her attorney.”
“Heard the same, but I'll give her a call and see if I can schedule something. Would you like to be there for it?” I asked.
“Tell me when, and I’ll be there.”
“Got it. I'll call you later.”
The line went dead, and I finally started checking my email. My phone buzzed again. I pulled it out of my shirt pocket and saw another text from Jana. I had forgotten to reply to her last one that came when I was eating lunch with Eli.
Is this when you start ignoring me? ;) I just wanted to know if it was Friday or Saturday. Or both.
Oh and here’s a not-naughty cake.
She’d sent a photo of a dolphin cake. Yet again, I laughed.
Let’s say Friday and Saturday.
I might be half-crazy, but I knew I wanted to see her more than once. The week was dragging on as it was. I put my phone away again only to feel it vibrate immediately. I pulled it out to see a gif of a dancing turtle. Where the hell she got that I didn't know. She also included another angle of the penis cake. By the time she finished sending me all the penis cake photos, I figured I would've seen the concoction from every angle.
***
The following day, I had confirmed an interview with Lynne Sutton. I’d been surprised when she answered my call directly. I met with Becca McNamara beforehand. Becca strode into my office quickly. She was quite pregnant. I grinned when I saw her, if only because the last time I’d seen her, she’d complained vocife
rously about trying to dress for work while pregnant.
“Hello Becca, how are you today?” I asked as she closed my office door behind her.
Becca patted her belly. “I'm fine. I'm only six months pregnant, and I'm ready to be done with this.”
I chuckled. “Oh and how does Aidan feel about that?” I asked, referring to her husband.
She grinned. “He thinks I'm working too hard. For that reason alone, he’ll probably be glad when this is over too. We're both excited about the baby, but he's driving me crazy worrying all the time.”
I knew Aidan in passing. He was an ex-Navy SEAL who ran his own private security company here in Seattle. Becca was brilliant in the courtroom and lovely with her dark hair and blue eyes. I found it refreshing that she was aggressive in the courtroom, but nice in person. My experiences with other attorneys weren't quite like that. Often those who were aggressive in the courtroom were assholes outside of it.
Becca sat down across from me. “So how do you think this will go?” she asked.
I took a swallow of my now cold coffee and shrugged. “I never know. I think what we have to lean on is the fact we have a witness. I don't know how much pressure Lynn Sutton is under. With the bruising on her neck alone, there should’ve been felony charges.”
Becca nodded emphatically. “Exactly. I couldn't believe the report when I saw it. Did you talk to the team that responded? They’re not doing us any favors with lame, low grade charges when he bruised her jaw and strangled her.”
“I spoke with them. I think they felt pressured not to file felony charges on a politician, especially one who’s in the public eye right now. We’ll see what we can do going forward.”
Becca nodded. “Well, do your magic with this interview. We'll see where we're at after you talk with her.”
We left my office, walking down the hallway together to the interview rooms. Becca went to wait in the observation areas while I went to get Lynne Sutton.
Moments later, I looked across the table at Lynne. She had a fragile quality to her with her small build and wispy blonde hair. The bruising on her jaw and neck was still visible. I took a deep breath and tried to focus. A maddening quality to interviews with domestic violence victims was they could be remarkably steadfast, either in their defense of the person who hurt them, or in their unwillingness to make things worse for that person by telling the truth about what happened. The sad truth was they were safer, statistically speaking, if they stayed with their abuser. I hated that. Victims were at greater risk when they attempted to leave their abusers with over 72% of all murder-suicides involving an intimate partner who left their abuser, and women comprising over 94% of those homicide victims. It was depressing as hell if I allowed myself to dwell on it.
Throw in the fact Lynne Sutton was married to an up and coming politician with a reputation to protect, and the odds were stacked against us we’d get her to talk. I was surprised when I asked a few questions, trying to start off lightly, and then she leaned back in her chair and sighed.
“Can I just say something?” she asked.
“Please do,” I replied.
Her hands were shaking slightly and had been ever since she sat down at the table. I presumed she was under an enormous amount of pressure.
“He did exactly what the witness said he did,” she said simply. “I'm not returning home when I leave here. I'm going to stay with my family. It's the only place I can go where I hope he won't come after me. If you need me to testify, I will. I was hoping I wouldn't have to because we had a witness.”
I quickly explained. “If you aren’t willing to testify, I understand. We can go forward without it, but your supporting testimony will help the case since you’re the actual victim. I’ll be honest, it’s rare we have a witness in a situation like this. More often than not, we might get a call because a neighbor hears arguing, but we can’t press charges without the victim’s cooperation. In this case because we have an eyewitness, we charged your husband anyway. The DA was hoping you might be willing to give us a statement as well.”
Lynne sighed and nodded. “This whole thing just makes me tired. I was so relieved when you called me in for the interview because I've hardly been able to leave the house since the night he was arrested. I expected them to hold him that night. If I’d known he was going to be offered bail, I would've left, but then he came home,” she explained, twisting her hands together and pausing to take a breath.
I bit back the urge to swear mightily. Bloody fucking hell. She didn't want to be there and hadn't since the first night. Because two greenies were too chicken to file the charges they needed, Ray Sutton had posted bail that same night. It had been a full three days since the assault, and she’d probably been living in terror the whole time. I had enough sense to know that this particular assault was unlikely the first.
I looked across at her, gathering myself. “Of course. I understand. My apologies he was released that night. If we’d been aware of the situation, it wouldn't have happened.”
She swallowed audibly, and it was obvious she was fighting tears. Stepping out of my chair, I went to a small table in the corner and pulled a box of tissues out of the drawer. Returning to the table, I slid them across to her as I sat down. She started crying, while I sat quietly with her. It wasn’t that I didn't want to comfort her, but I sensed she needed a moment to cry.
After a few minutes, I asked, “Do you need anything?”
She lifted her head, blowing her nose noisily before replying. “No, I'm okay. Can you give me some suggestions on how to handle any calls from him?” she asked.
“Absolutely. We can have the DA file updated charges that include no contact with you. That way, you won’t have to worry about calls from him. That will be part of the suspended court orders, assuming we get what we request. I can assure you the prosecutor assigned to the case won’t buckle to public pressure. I suggest you remain here at the station until we handle this today. Will that be okay with you?”
She nodded quickly. “Of course. Where should I wait?”
“This room is fine. We don't need it right now, and it would be best for you to stay out of the public waiting areas. I presume he'll expect you to be home by a certain time, am I correct?”
Her yes was barely a whisper.
“We’ll do everything we can to keep you safe. Can I get you anything while you wait?”
Once she shook her head, I stood, pausing beside her chair as I walked past it.
“Thank you for being honest about what happened. I know it's not easy. I can arrange for a DV advocate to come wait with you if you’d like.”
She reached out, gripping my hand. “No, that’s okay. I have a friend who will come sit with me. Thank you. I was worried I would tell you what happened and you’d tell me I was being ridiculous and I should’ve said something that night. I just…”
Her words ran out, and she simply squeezed my hand again before releasing it.
“You didn’t need to worry, but I understand why you would. I’ll go speak with the DA now, and one of us will come back to check in with you. Let me give you my number. I'm in and out of the building, so if you need something, call me directly, okay?”
She nodded. Though she was still teary, her shaking had stopped. “I don't suppose you have some coffee.”
“I'll make sure we get some brought into you. Give me your number, and I'll text you mine.”
Once she did, I zapped my contact over to her and then left immediately, circling around to find Becca and nearly colliding with her in the hallway.
“That was bullshit! There's a reason those guys should’ve filed more serious charges to begin with. If he hadn’t had light charges, he’d never have been able to post bail the same night,” she said, her eyes fairly snapping.
“Bloody right. I've already spoken with them, and I'll do so again. Next time, I'll make sure they clear any charges with the sergeant on duty, so we don't end up in this mess again. The least we could've done was
make sure he was held without bail until a court hearing the following day. Did you need anything from me or did you get what you needed for the hearing from our interview?”
“I'm all set. I’m heading to the courthouse now to file updated charges and include a no contact order. Good call to have her wait here. I’ll ask for an emergency hearing today and keep you updated.”
“Got it. Call me if you need anything from us.”
Becca dashed off. I was restless after this. I took care of some paperwork, and then headed outside for some fresh air and to grab a bite to eat. By pure habit, I hopped in my police cruiser and headed over to Desert Isle Coffee. I didn't need coffee in particular, but they had excellent sandwiches. A steady drizzle was falling as I strode quickly down the side street where I parked, shouldering through the door, the bell jingling above me as I entered. I was standing in line when I noticed Jana was there. She was seated at a corner table with her laptop in front of her. A man wearing a suit and carrying a look of entitlement was standing beside the table talking to her.
Jana looked uncomfortable. In every encounter I'd had with her, including when I saw her arguing with the guy who ran into the back of her car, she never seemed uncomfortable. Just now, she looked tense. The man reached over to touch her shoulder, and she flinched, angling away from him. Without thinking, I walked over swiftly. I couldn’t say I had a bloody clue what was happening, but that didn’t stop me.
“Hello luv,” I said as soon as I reached her, sliding a hand onto her shoulder and dropping a kiss on her cheek.
I didn't even bother to be polite, stepping right to her side and forcing the man nearby to move. Her eyes whipped up to mine, slightly startled at first, but then a look of relief flashed across her face.
“Hi!” she said, a tad too brightly.
“Sorry I'm late,” I added, figuring it was best if we went with the idea she’d been expecting me.
Her eyes flicked to mine and then to the man who was now off to my side. She got with the program right away. “Oh no problem. I'll finish up what I'm doing before you get your lunch,” she said.