They’d left the Joneses’ house in high enough spirits—even had some breakfast—but as they’d approached their destination, the ladies had become quieter. And now, he could sense Kristin’s nerve endings vibrating. Whether Ash was nervous herself, or whether she’d picked up on her mother’s feelings, he didn’t know. But her complexion seemed paler than usual and she held on to the shepherd’s leash so tightly her fingertips showed white. Her death grip was unnecessary. Quincy, always sensitive to her needs, made no move to be anywhere else.
“We’re here to see Detective Silva, that’s Joe Silva,” said Rick, putting his badge on the reception desk.
“The dog’s working?”
“Check the collar.” He’d put Quincy’s therapy-dog badge on earlier.
“Okay, I got it. You’re here to work with Sandy Page. Have a seat. I’ll be right back.”
Ashley sat on a wooden bench; Quincy lay on the floor at her feet. Kristin paced. Five steps left, five steps right. Her mouth was pressed into a line. She glanced at her watch, at the ceiling, at the wall posters. Everywhere but at Rick.
His muscles tightened as he watched her. She hated the place. She distrusted cops. So much laughter and loving had passed between them, he’d thought that attitude was a thing of the past.
She stepped close to him. “Don’t you think they should have found him by now? Maybe they never tried until you and your friends called. And that was really too late. Even the advocate assigned to us didn’t get more information than I already had.”
Rick took her hand, caressed her fingers, and felt her squeeze back. “It’s because they didn’t have any new information. But you know the case is still open, Kristin. Someone is assigned to it, and now Ashley has more to contribute.”
“Ashley! Somehow that doesn’t seem fair. Ash is the victim here. Does she also have to solve the crime?”
Well, yes. Victims did have stories to tell, even victims of cold cases years old. But he didn’t need another display of protective parenting. More important, Ashley didn’t need it. He chose to come down hard.
“Keep your cool, Kristin, or you’ll upset whatever balance Ashley’s found inside herself since last night. It seems to me she’s doing a lot better than you.” At this point, he was quite certain his words were true.
A petite brunette with a friendly smile came out to the waiting room just then, waved to Rick and Kristin, but zeroed in on Ash.
“Hi, Ashley. I’m Sandy. And that has got to be the most gorgeous dog I’ve ever seen in my whole life.” She knelt down to greet the shepherd and rubbed him under the chin. Quincy accepted the attention with a yawn and a lick.
“Oh, he’s a love, isn’t he?”
“And he’s smart,” Ashley said. “Very, very smart. Wanna hear a joke?” She addressed the dog. “What’s on the top of the building, Quince?”
“Woof.”
To her credit, Sandy laughed as though her funny bone was being jostled. Then she extended her hand.
“Come on, Ashley. Maybe you and your handsome date here can help me draw some pictures.”
“I can draw….”
“Great! I’ve got zillions of pencils and crayons you can use with me.”
And without a backward glance, they were gone through the connecting door.
Kristin stood frozen in place, but Rick’s chest swelled with pride at the artist’s people skills.
“And that, sweetheart, is police work at its best.”
“Is she a cop?”
“Maybe. Or she may be an independent contract artist trained in forensics.”
Kristin frowned in confusion. “But you can’t train a personality, can you? And hers…? Why, Ashley went right off with her….” She turned her head and stared again at the closed door.
“And that means we might have a fair shot at getting an excellent rendition of the perp. Sandy knows what she’s doing.”
“It seems everyone knows what they’re doing…except me.” Kris’s voice quivered and he took her in his arms, uncaring of who else was in the room.
“Krissy, Krissy. Your job is the hardest. No one else is the mother. You’re doing fine. Great. You’re fabulous.”
She leaned against his chest, seemingly content to rest there indefinitely. He had no objections.
“I have to keep my wits about me,” she whispered. “Like you said, I have to keep my cool.”
He wanted to hold her forever. This woman who tried so hard to do the right things. This fighter who managed to bounce back every time she fell down. This lover who could twist his heart without even realizing it. He swallowed a chuckle at the irony. Cops weren’t supposed to have a heart, were they? He was definitely in the wrong profession.
SHE WAS PROUD of her calm frame of mind when Joe Silva invited them inside. In his forties, alert, and with an air of confidence, Detective Silva started by offering them a cup of the station’s best sludge, and making a few innocuous remarks. Rick and he exchanged work information, and Kristin enjoyed watching the two men size each other up. It was so obvious and such a male thing, she actually turned away to hide a smile.
When Joe asked about Ashley, he focused his attention on Kristin. Totally on Kristin. His interest was matched by his concern.
“I’m a father,” he said. “I know where you’re coming from. We’re in this together, Mrs. McCarthy, and I feel your frustration.” He started counting on his fingers. “No DNA match in the system. No witnesses. We really had nothing.”
He seemed to have more to say, so she sat forward in her chair and waited.
“We rounded up all the registered sex offenders in the area, even without the match. If they had friends visiting, we brought them in, too. We sent a description of the incident throughout the country, and here in the metro area, we told all departments to double their surveillance around malls and theater complexes. We contacted theater managers about their security. We certainly combed our own streets that day and for days and nights afterward.”
He switched his attention to Rick. “The case was on the hot sheets every day for weeks.”
Then the officer swallowed some coffee and said softly, “There’s not a cop in this place who doesn’t want to make the collar, Mrs. McCarthy. Not a one. We haven’t forgotten about your daughter.”
Her eyes filled, and for the very first time, Kristin believed.
“Thank you. Thank you very much. I guess I really needed to hear that.” She took a tissue from the box he held out to her and wiped her face.
“The perp is out there,” the cop said. “Human beings do not disappear into thin air, no matter what the movies might want you to believe, with all the special effects they come up with.”
“Joe’s right. One hundred percent.” Rick took her hand, and she held on hard. “Maybe Ash and Sandy will come up with a composite drawing,” he said, “a drawing that will be faxed everywhere. And I mean throughout the entire country.”
The idea reassured her and, inch by inch, Kristin could feel herself loosen up—first her neck, then her spine, then her fingers and toes. She breathed deeply, once, twice. Rick rose and stepped behind her, offering a massage that could have put her to sleep. She heard him say something to Joe about the stress she’d been under.
“Magic hands,” she murmured a minute later, her lids drooping.
He aborted his conversation with Joe Silva and breathed in her ear, “I’ll take your word on that.”
The nuance registered and so did the heat flowing through her body. And in a police station!
The telephone rang, startling Kristin.
Joe hung up quickly and said, “Sandy’s got something. We can go in.”
Ash and Sandy sat next to each other at an ordinary table. The sketch lay between them. It was upside down from where Kristin stood, but she could see a lot of work had been done.
“Hi, Mom.” Her daughter’s voice sounded thready, and Kristin quickly crossed the room, leaned down and hugged her.
“Wow! Look
at all you’ve done today.”
Besides the tattoo, she saw a round face with plump cheeks, deep-set brown eyes and an upturned, flat nose with nostrils showing. A blue ski cap covered the head and ears. Peeping out from one ear was a gold earring.
“She did fabulous work today,” declared Sandy. “Ash, may I tell them how you described the jerk?”
Ashley nodded and buried her head in Kristin’s shoulder.
“She remembered the brown eyes, but we also needed to get the shape of the head—round, narrow, long, square and so on. So when I asked about that, she said, ‘Piggy. He looked like a pink pig.’ Ergo, the nose.”
Studying the picture, Rick said, “It could have been broken and fixed badly—a lousy nose job. The end is made of cartilage and not too difficult to shape.”
“I saw him in the hallway real fast,” said Ashley, “right before…before…he grabbed me.” She kept holding her mother, but spoke to Rick. “Did you tell them he was taller than you?”
“Do you still think so, sweetheart?”
The girl stood. So did he. She walked toward his right side and tilted her head. “Yes. Maybe only just as tall, but bigger.” She motioned for him to lean down. “Come closer. I want to ask you something.”
He squatted next to her and listened. Kristin watched every move.
“Can we leave now?” she whispered, but not so quietly that Kristin couldn’t hear. “I want to go home to the lake.”
“Sure, kiddo.” He straightened to his six feet and signaled Kristin. “She’s ready to leave.”
“Are we done?” asked Kristin, glancing from Sandy to Joe.
“Let’s ask Ashley,” suggested Sandy, holding up the picture. “What do you think, Ash? Are we done?”
The child thought for a moment. “Well, he wore a coat—but that’s not part of his face.”
But Sandy immediately started sketching the shoulders. “Ski jacket? Or raincoat type?”
“Long.”
“Like this?” asked the artist.
Ash nodded. “Now, we’re done. Except…” She turned to Rick. “Remember what I said about his voice? Rough, like maybe salt and broken sea shells were in his throat.”
Rick nodded. “You’ve said he sounded as if he had a bad cold. Maybe laryngitis?”
“I’m adding it to the description,” said Sandy, writing quickly.
Joe Silva motioned to someone at the doorway and then started to clap his hands. Other officers entered and joined in the applause.
“Look at the great job Ashley’s been able to do for us,” said Joe, holding up the drawing. Words of praise came from every cop in the room. “One of you guys, get this wired out.”
“And then he’ll never be able to hurt anybody ever, ever again,” Ashley said.
“That’s right,” said Kristin before she waved the cops closer. “Come meet my daughter, everybody. Put a face on who you’re fighting for.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
RICK’S PRIDE IN KRISTIN almost surpassed his love. Or maybe they were both part of the same emotion. He didn’t analyze his feelings; he simply enjoyed them and kept them to himself. Especially when the L word sort of crept up on him. But once he began to recognize it, his feelings for Kristin only grew deeper. “Put a face on who you’re fighting for,” she’d said. She’d taken charge in that building. She and Ashley deserved a lot more than a spooked cop with little to offer.
“It’s eleven o’clock,” he said as they left the precinct. “We have a big decision.” He opened the doors of the Pilot and watched Quincy spring into the backseat. “Lunch or ice cream?”
“Ice cream,” Ashley responded immediately, climbing in after Quincy. “Ice cream, please. Can we go to Ripples? That’s my favorite place. And we have treats for Quincy because he can’t eat people sweets.”
“Whatever she wants,” said Kristin. “Today’s her day.” She glanced up at him, her blue eyes warm. “It’s your day, too, Rick. Thank you so much for…for…” She gestured in a wide circle. “For everything.”
“My pleasure,” he murmured.
He leaned forward and kissed her. In front of the kid, the dog, the pedestrians and cops. He couldn’t help himself. He loved her.
But when he lifted his head and saw her surprise, he wanted to kick himself. Damn it. It wasn’t the time or the place for a kiss. She’d simply been thanking him. And he’d overreacted because of that look in her eyes. It could have been love…. Now he wasn’t sure, and suddenly felt the same way Ashley did. Morningstar Lake seemed like a wonderful destination—the sooner, the better.
“Lots of traffic today,” he said, reaching for a safe topic as he pulled into his lane.
“It’s always pretty awful around here on Saturdays,” said Kristin. “But if we cut through one of the residential neighborhoods…coming up, see? Bainbridge Road. Make a right there, and we’ll avoid a lot of cars and still get back onto the main road leading to Ripples.”
He followed her directions for three streets, until they were blocked by a police car. The cops were running yellow tape, cordoning off the area. People were starting to gather in small groups.
“What the…?” said Rick, pulling to the curb and getting out of the car. He turned to the women. “I’ll be right back.”
Kristin nodded.
“Are you going to help someone?” asked Ashley.
“Just checking.”
“His sister says he has to save the world,” Kristin said to Ashley. “And I wish…it didn’t have to be saved.”
Rick walked away, not liking the sound of that. Not liking it at all.
Five minutes later, he had the information he needed, and jogged to the car.
“I’m going to be here awhile.” He leaned in closer to Kristin, so Ash couldn’t hear the details, and spoke quickly. “A domestic dispute. The woman secretly called 911 from another part of the house. The husband’s carrying a handgun. Domestic violence is the worst kind. Hopefully, this might take some time but turn out well.”
“Oh, my God,” said Kristin. “A gun. The poor woman.”
“The locals are waiting for a crisis team to arrive.”
She gave him a half smile. “I’d guess the crisis team has arrived. At least part of it.”
Maybe. “I’ll see if I can help out. You take the car and get ice cream. Get lunch. Go back to your parents’ home. Whatever. I’ll call you later.” He stroked her cheek, tapped the car and left without waiting for her answer.
KRISTIN WATCHED HIM join his brothers in blue. Of course he would jump in, put himself out there. It’s what he did, who he was. He just didn’t want to admit it. He liked saving the world….
Like he’d saved her? And Ashley? Were they just part and parcel of his personal modus operandi? Or was the light in his eye when he looked at her genuine? Was the thoughtful behavior he demonstrated every day—the good humor, the concern, his dependability—part of his deeper feelings for them? With this man, she’d learned that actions screamed much more loudly than words. But…she wanted the words, too. If they were true.
Being a cop had ruined his first marriage. The job was always the “other woman.” Today, that concept was more than a theory. It was coming to life in front of her. And yet the whole situation seemed ludicrous on such a fine sunny day in June, under a clear blue sky.
She scanned the scene in front of her. The crowd had grown. She spotted Rick with a phone at his ear, and suddenly, nothing seemed ludicrous. Her stomach churned as reality hit with a vengeance. The hostage taker had a gun! A real gun. Her heart thudded; she tasted metal. Fear. Fear claimed her, every nerve, every pore, every part of her being.
What if the guy started shooting? What if he shot Rick? What if he shot the hostage? What if Rick wound up with nightmares again?
Kristin didn’t want to leave, but she opened her door to switch seats. Ash deserved her ice cream.
“Mommy, what’s going on?”
“I’m just getting behind the wheel. Rick needs to stay
here to help.”
“Then we can’t go,” her daughter said. “He might need us. Or Quincy. We’re his backup. I learned that word.”
Kris tried to lighten her voice. “Oh, he’s got lots of buddies to help him out.”
But Ashley shook her head, her mouth a hard line. “We have to stay, Mom. Please. We’ll stay right here in the car. We won’t go over there.” She pointed in the direction of the developing incident, and then, with a crafty expression, added, “I’ll have a huge dinner later. Okay?”
Kristin rummaged through her handbag. “How about a stick of gum for now?”
RICK MADE A QUICK CALL to Captain Stein to let him know he was on the job again. Of course, Stein had to say a few words about jumping into the deep end, after Rick explained the situation.
“It can’t be helped, Captain. It seems I’m the primary, working out of a precinct vehicle. No one else is here yet except the street boys, but I think they’ll be okay.”
“I wasn’t expecting the surprise, but you, Detective Cooper, are exactly where you’re supposed to be. Keep in touch. And good luck.”
Rick was used to being dispatched anywhere he was needed in the metropolitan area when crisis intervention teams were called. He never knew exactly what he’d find. Sometimes, an unlucky private citizen who happened to be on the scene before the special team arrived began the negotiations—an experience the individual would remember forever. Most times, however, the pros showed up quickly enough to take over.
Rick got out of the police car and surveyed his surroundings—the house, the yard, the front door, the side yards—glad the local officers had taped the full area and were pushing the crowd back. A quick glimpse over his shoulder showed him that Kristin and Ash were still parked. He wanted to jog over and send them on their way, but that was impossible now.
“Do we have the phone number for the house?” he asked one of the patrolmen.
“Affirmative. A technical equipment team is on the way.”
“Good. I might need a uniform and a vest.” The van would hold a lot of miscellaneous supplies.
Linda Barrett - Count on a Cop Page 18