by Adira August
“I’d need the same … actress. But she’d have to follow the script this time.”
Hunter’s eyes flashed cold fire for a second. “She will.”
Garza believed him.
WENDY—MORE PROFESSIONAL than perky in a jacket with a KCCB CHANNEL 8 logo—came out of Video Production. Her producer and a cameraman followed, pushing plastic crates of equipment on hand trucks. Wendy stopped to talk to Garza, whose back Hunter was using as a table, filling out an evidence envelope.
“You did a hell of a job for us, Gwen,” Hunter said. “Your whole team did. I’ll make sure the governor knows.”
Gwendolyn Chasten looked at Garza while she answered Hunt. “Thanks, but tell the station manager. He’s salivating over the exclusive.”
“I will.” Done with Garza, Hunter sealed the envelope. “If you’ll excuse me I have to log this drive into evidence.”
“Get it done, Hunter.” She fished a notebook out of a large cross-body bag.
He gave her a half salute and left.
She wrote something and ripped the page out of her notebook. “Call me if you're not married or gay.” She held the note out to Garza.
He offered her a kind look but didn't reach for the paper. “Asexual.”
She crumpled up her phone number. “Well, that's a dyin' shame.”
“TELL ME HOW THEY WERE BOUND.” Twee had her phone on speaker. Raider stood by taking notes. “Detective Chang?”
“Hold on.”
Voices in the background disappeared.
“Okay, I’m in an office. What do you need, exactly?”
“How were the bodies bound?”
“I’d have to check the file.”
“That’s code for check with the Boss. Detective Chang, we don’t have time. I’m in charge of processing the evidence and what information I need to do that. How were they bound and with what? Specifically, were they gagged? Were their hands bound in front or behind or some other way?”
They heard him sigh.
“You’re working on the car?”
“Yes.”
“There were no drugs found at autopsy. There were no gags at the scene. He used duct tape wrapped around their arms, but their actual hands—”
There was a long pause. He cleared his throat.
“—were left free. What you need to know is this. Nugent did all three scenes. There was evidence of adhesive, from duct tape, around their mouths. Over their ears. On wrists and pants. Socks. One of the boys… At autopsy they found ligament damage indicating the hands were behind, taped to the ankles. The body bowed back. Are we done?”
“One thing,” Twee said. “Was it normal duct tape or the heavier, super-sticky kind?”
“Normal.”
The call disconnected.
“I have to go back in,” Twee said.
“You’ve been in,” Raider said with a sweeping gesture across the open trunk. “Six times.”
“Not the way he was. Not bound. Not in the dark.” She put on fresh gloves and a hair cover. “There’s duct tape in my case. Get it.”
Raider came back with the tape. “Carol, c’mon. The interior emergency latch is broken, you’ll be gagged. You can’t even kick. I won’t know if you’re in trouble.”
“You can open the trunk every five minutes to check.” Twee got into the trunk and lay on her stomach, her legs bent, her hands behind her. “Do it. All of it. Then close the lid and shut off the lights.”
Raider didn’t understand why it made her nauseous or why she had to fight so hard not to cry as she trussed up her friend and supervisor. She took a last wrap over Twee’s mouth and around her head. Raider closed the trunk firmly, and set her cell timer to five minutes.
At the main processing bench, she stuck a pair of Lister bandage scissors in the side pocket of her smock. Alonzo had gone to dinner, so she was alone with whatever happened next. Raider shut off the lights.
Returning to the trunk, she put a gallon size evidence bag on the trunk lid and laid her ear against it. She wasn’t sure she heard anything, but did feel some subtle vibrations as Twee moved around.
She jumped when her timer went off.
Raider used her flashlight app and raised the lid. Twee was breathing heavily through her nose. She shook her head.
“Enough,” Raider said. Twee’s head shake was more vigorous, her eyebrows pulled together.
Raider closed the lid again. Started the timer. She put her ear on the trunk lid and held her cell in front of her face, watching the numbers count down.
At thirty seconds she ran to the front and switched on the lights.
When she got back to the trunk, she still had ten seconds to wait. She didn’t.
Twee blinked at the light. She wasn’t breathing hard. Even with the duct tape, Raider knew she was smiling.
THE BUZZ FROM Hunt’s cell stopped him outside Interrogation One.
Garza stopped with him. “You’re a slave to that thing.”
“It’s Twee,” he said tapping on. “Go ahead,” he told her.
“Describe that. … How? … That makes you Watson.” A smile spread slowly as he listened. “You’re a fucking genius, little girl. … I never said I wasn’t a misogynist. Keep me informed.” He tapped off.
“You have dimples,” Garza said. “What did the little girl find?”
“Blood and skin. Ferriter wanted to disable the emergency trunk release.”
Now Garza started to smile. “But he’s no mechanic and couldn’t hire one.”
“He smashed it with a hammer. There’s a metal frame of some kind.”
“A circular bezel over a plastic light cover. It looks like a big red button, always lit when the trunk is closed. Theoretically, even a child too small to read will see the light and reach for it, press it. What’d he use?”
“A hammer, she thinks. He smashed whatever’s in there—bulb, wiring—and glued the bezel back into place. Twee says he glued it because he bent it, a sharp vee of metal stuck up just a little. She found blood and tissue embedded under it. When we find Brian, he’ll have a scrape on his forehead.” Hunter grinned. “You have a dimple of your own, Garza.”
“So she figures what? Ferriter drove over a bump, and Brian got thrown around and luckily hit his head in exactly the right place?”
“Oh, no. She thinks he searched until he found something he could scrape skin and blood off on for us to find.”
“He’s an eight-year-old boy. Why would she think that?”
“Because it’s what Sherlock Holmes would do.”
NOW IN A POWER SUIT—her hair damp, her face raw-looking—Ruth was on a video call with DiMato. “Can you do it?”
“I need to check with Lieutenant Dane.”
“Sergeant, have you forgotten my rank?” Movement caught her eye. Hunter Dane stood in her doorway.
Hunter ignored the wait a minute hand she held up. He entered, but left the door open.
“I’ll get back to you.” She swiped off.
“I checked Interrogation One when I came in,” he said. “All of it. The nut was in place. You sabotaged it during the briefing after maintenance left.” He held up an evidence baggie, the contents clearly visible to her, then dropped it back into his pocket.
“You searched my coat without a warrant, Dane. You don’t have a thing.”
“You might check that coat for holes in the pockets.”
“You always were the most arrogant son of a bitch in the room.”
“I’ve heard.”
She waved him off like an annoying fly. “You’ve still got nothing. Nuts are identical. You’re going to claim you found it on the floor? You can’t prove that particular one was from that room or that I ever touched it.”
“True. I can’t prove what room any specific nut came from. But Carol Twee can.”
That stopped her.
“Was it just me you wanted to fuck with? Did you resent it so much when they called me you’d put everything at risk to keep the glory for y
ourself? Ferriter was coming apart, Garza was sure he would—”
“—would what?” She came out from behind the desk and into his space. “Give Garza enough for a chapter in his next book? Give us GPS coordinates for Brian? He was never doing that. I got him. He’s going to death row.”
“You got him? You know, Captain, your ambitions might not allow giving a shit that some twisted freak almost killed you, or that your so-clever trick will probably cost Brian Trowbridge his life,” Hunter said. “But if it does, I’ll make sure it costs you your career, your pension, and maybe your freedom after I talk to the A.G.’s office.”
She blanched but sneered up into his face. “The Great Dane. Master gamesman. And cocksucker, I hear. You came in with a deal to offer me, so what is it?”
“Garza will explain. And you will be a very good, very obedient girl with only one agenda.”
She flushed hard but held his stare. “And what’s that?”
“Pleasing me,” he smirked. “If you do, you get what’s in my pocket.”
It only took a moment for her to weigh her options. “Fine.”
He swung the door wide for her. As she stepped through, Garza fell into step on one side. Hunter took the other.
It was a silent march to Assaults. Hunt stopped them short of the door.
“Special Agent Garza will tell you what he needs,” Hunter told her. To Garza, “You can get started, I won’t be long. Captain Teller said she was fine following the FBI’s lead.”
“How nice,” Garza smiled at her, wondering what Hunter had threatened her with.
Brian Trowbridge used both hands to ease the chain down the tree trunk as far down as it would go.
His head close to the ground, Brian twisted his torso to pull his legs up as far as possible against his slight body. He swept the leafy debris over himself, an inch of fluffy snow cast into the air, to whirl and eddy and settle back down.
Brian Trowbridge disappeared under the pile that was quickly dusted, then buried, by the snow.
THE ASSAULT BUREAU was larger than Homicide. People hit, kicked, bit, clubbed and burned each far more often than they took a life. The regular detail had moved in with Burglary for a few hours. This way, Hunt and his team could take a last, clean shot at Ferriter away from reminders of his victory over Ruth Teller.
All the interrogation rooms were empty, doors open, except for Interrogation Three. Davidson was inside, keeping Ferriter company.
DiMato and Chang had created a mini command center with multiple laptops and department monitors in the center of the room. These interrogation rooms weren’t soundproofed. Conversation in the bullpen was hushed.
Garza had established himself at a desk at some distance from the rest.
Hunter came in and made his way to Garza, checking in with his detectives along the way. He barely acknowledged Ruth sitting at a desk next to Garza, eyeing him like a hungry lioness next to a young zebra.
“We ready?” Hunter asked.
“We haven’t yet begun,” Garza answered. “Captain Teller. I want to acknowledge that you did an outstanding job with this suspect. Until you showed yourself for the narcissistic, ambitious harpy you really are.” He stroked his cheek thoughtfully. “It's too bad he wanted to kill you so quickly.”
She huffed a laugh. “The narcissist in this conversation is the one who thinks he’ll swoop in at the last minute and save the governor’s nephew.” She shot a withering look at Hunter. “You even have a trusty sidekick. So. What’s the new plan, genius?”
“He loathes you.”
“And?”
“It's why he loathes you, that's the key. Someone made him suffer. And someone else watched him suffer and did nothing. He fears the abuser. He hates the watcher. It's a cliché. But they always are.”
“Cliché?” She was interested regardless of her contempt.
“The passive abuser is usually the mother,” Hunter said. “If mama loved him, she would have saved him. Instead, she loved the abuser, the father figure. The child becomes an abuser, so she'll love him. That’s why we gave him you. The mother/wife he could show his cruel deeds to, so she’d love him. Save him.”
“But you betrayed him. And now he loathes you,” Garza said to the snow outside the window.
“And you think I can turn that around?”
Garza reached for her. He took her wrist and pulled her off her chair to stand in front of him. Holding her hand, he stroked her upturned palm, lifted his head and held her in his dark gaze.
Ruth swallowed and refused to acknowledge any response from her body.
Garza stood up, leaned over, whispered in her ear. “How do you seduce someone, Ruth? You make them want.”
A SHRILL WHISTLE carried across the wooded slope.
“Where's he at?” Vargas asked Avron.
The trainer handed him the tracker. The bright orange dot that was Big Hans glowed on a grid.
“'Bout a hundred-fifty feet downslope. I don't figure this guy could go much further.”
The black Bronco entered the parking area and stopped next to the pickup. A tarp stretched over the pickup’s roll bars flapped at the edges in the rising wind. The flurries thickened.
“Avron, we got maybe twenty minutes, and we have to pull them in. We’ll still be lucky to beat the storm to safety.”
“Yeah, that’s why I called Snow in.”
Cam joined Vargas. “I’ll need one of the snowmobiles.”
“No time,” Vargas said, watching the tracker. The dot had stopped. Avron whistled again. The dot moved down the screen.
“What are you talking about? It's just snowing,” Cam said.
“And soon it'll be a blizzard,” Avron said, coming back from the edge.
“I can cover a lot of ground before that happens. We don’t just quit. Brian’s close,” Cam insisted.
“Son, it’s almost full dark. This is no ski resort with manicured runs. This is drop-offs and boulders, ravines you can’t see. If I let you take one of my machines, we’ll be lookin’ for two bodies in the morning. You being an expert at what you do, I expect you to understand that I’m an expert at what I do.”
Cam stood silent.
“I already told my people to wrap up,” Avron told Vargas. “They're all locals; they'll get home fine.”
Hans came galumphing up the slope to put his big head in Avron's hands. Avron opened the truck door and climbed in. Hans turned a few circles and settled down near the door.
“We'll be here 'til all my folks check in.”
“Okay. Cam, come make a last round with me, check with the teams, see who needs help. We’ll swing back to get your Bronco and follow Avron out.”
Cam jerked a nod and stalked over to the SUV.
Vargas and Avron exchanged sad, knowing looks.
DEEDEE PLAYED a game on her phone as Ferriter seethed silently, cuffed to the arms of his chair.
The door opened, and Natani handed her some paperwork. “There's the new charge sheet.”
“She'll need the advisement.”
Ferriter’s head jerked in the direction of the new voice. Ruth. Out of sight but nearby.
Natani took the new form from the unseen Ruth and gave it to Davidson. She backed out, closing the door.
“Ruthie! ... RUTHEEEEE!” Ferriter wailed.
Natani stepped inside. “Settle down, sir. You can't speak to Captain Teller.”
“I need to tell her something.”
“Mister Ferriter, there are multiple investigations open concerning you as well as this felony attempted murder charge Detective Davidson has. Captain Teller is the victim and Detective Davidson the investigator. And you are the suspect. Captain Teller cannot talk to you about your charges”
“Brian Trowbridge.”
Natani and Deedee shared a surprised look.
“RUTHEEEEE!”
Ruth showed herself outside the doorway, carrying a laptop. To Natani, “It's all right. Davidson, take a few minutes.”
Deedee
gathered the charge sheets.
“Leave the advisement,” Ruth told her.
Deedee put one of the papers down and left.
“We could be on very thin legal ground here, Captain.”
“I'm aware. I've got this, now.” Ruth stepped inside and waited by the door for Natani to leave.
Ruth took Deedee's chair and opened the laptop, the back toward Ferriter. On screen was Brian's stream: the tree with snow-frosted chains.
Ruth filled out the advisement.
Ferriter couldn’t take his eyes off her. A few buttons were undone on her shirt. Her neck showed bruising in the distinct pattern of the handcuff chain across her throat.
Ferriter licked his lips, eyes on her neck. “I branded you. Didn't I?”
Her gaze rose to meet his. A flicker of something heated in hers. She touched the form.
“Mister Ferriter, this is a Miranda advisement in the matter of the kidnapping and false imprisonment of Brian Trowbridge. This advisement covers no other matters concerning you. However, as always, what happens in this room is recorded. Anything you say can be used by any law enforcement agent or prosecutor in any proceeding that may be pending or filed in the future.”
She stopped, giving him a chance to ask a question. Stony silence. She picked up the form.
"You have the right to remain silent. Anything you do say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to have an attorney present before questioning proceeds in this matter. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed to you at your request before questioning. If you agree to questioning, you have the right to stop answering questions at any time. Do you understand these rights I have read to you?"
She waited expectantly, pen poised over a checkbox.
“Why now? Nobody gave a crap about my rights before, why now?”
"Do you understa—"
“—I understand my goddamned rights, I know them better than you do. Why now?”
Ruth checked the box. "If you wish to waive your right to an attorney, sign and print your name and the date below. Do you wish to waive your right to an attorney before questioning?”