by A. C. Henley
She gingerly stepped out of the loose circle, grabbing the photographer's camera and smashing it into the cinderblock wall next to the door. She handed what was left hanging from the strap back to the reporter telling him to send her a bill as she made her way over to Maggie who had a cell phone pressed to her ear. There was a dull roar of voices in the hall as officers and firemen gathered. She grabbed the nearest uniformed officer by the front of his shirt. "I want the press back on the street now." She growled low in her chest noticing with satisfaction the young man paling under her gaze. She let lose of his shirt and was pleased with the speed and efficiency that he carried out her orders. Paramedics swarmed the room of children, as she and Oscar moved to the next room of young girls to set them free as well. It was going to be a long night, Vivian thought to herself. Her thoughts also went to her lover below in the alley. As if sensing this, Maggie tapped her on the shoulder as the last collar fell from the last girl.
"They've transported her to Rampart. She's okay, mostly bruised besides the shoulder wound." She gave Vivian a reassuring smile and a firm squeeze of her hand. "The bus has arrived. The boys have rigged a tunnel of sorts with rain slickers from the door to the bus. It should detour the fucking helicopters from getting any shots before we can find parents." The red head detective walked to the end of the hall and came back with blankets that she distributed to empty handed officers and firemen alike.
Vivian took one from the stack and stood away from the wall where she had rested for just a moment. "Okay, listen up! We need to get these kids out of here and onto that bus with as little trauma as possible and avoid any face shots by the press, so every one grab a kid and line up on the stairs. We'll go in single file." She looked at Maggie who was talking with the officers on the street via radio. She got a thumb's up and a quick nod of Maggie's head to her unspoken question. "Okay, let's do it!"
"I'm not… stay… ing…" Quin told the young ER doctor for the umpteenth time in thirty minutes, "Give me a pair of scrubs and a bill." Suddenly the thin blue curtain of the exam area was whooshed aside and one Ruth Ross appeared pointing an authoritative finger at Quin.
"You will shut your mouth, and you will let this doctor do his job."
"Who called you?" Quin gritted out between clutched teeth.
"Whom do you think? Christ Almighty Quin, you have a gun shot wound to your shoulder, multiple lacerations from being put through a window, and several fractured ribs from falling twenty-five feet onto a rather solid asphalt surface. I'm not even going to start on all the injuries you've accumulated over the last month! You're lucky not to be dead, but I guarantee that if you don't start acting like an adult human being at this instance I will kill you myself and tell God you died of natural causes!" Ruth spouted, her face flushed with exertion, "Now, I can wait with you until you get into a room, and then I'll need to get home and rescue Tom. He's two years rusty with infants, not that I don't trust him…." She straightened a bit of gauze bandage on Quin's shoulder lying it flat as she rambled on, "… Just that he gets so wound up. Then he hovers like a little old woman waiting on the final bingo ball…."
Quin was afraid to comment on anything the woman was saying so she leaned back, resigned to the fact that she would be spending the night in the hospital, at least one night, and only one night if she had any say. She glanced at Ruth, a small smile tugged at her lips. It was nice having the woman back in her life. Quin was glad that some things went well over the last month. Her smile grew wider as she pondered the other thing that truly went well: Vivian Walsh. Now there was a wonder. How on earth had she lucked into Vivian Walsh?
"Are you listening to me Quinlan McKee?" Ruth poked her good shoulder.
Quin nodded mutely to the question. She had already dispatched Quang to get what she needed. She would simply have a rest until she found the right time to leave. Ruth's rambling continued as she drifted off into a drug-induced sleep.
PART 10
"I GOT THREE more!"
The adrenalin was pumping through every officer at the mid-town precinct. Missing children reports were being dragged from the bottom of desk drawers and out of file cabinets marked ‘cold cases'. There was a stack of fresh faxes from all over the city, and now they were being joined by out of state and federal agencies who wanted to match a face or two, to a long list of unforgotten children that went missing years ago.
Vivian squeezed past the bodies jamming the central hall and into the detective room. She weaved around uniformed and plain clothes officers with her latest bundle of files. She looked at Maggie as she plopped down into her chair. Her partner was on the phone talking animatedly, her hands punctuating her spoken words with wild gestures. The redhead had taken over Tom's desk for the time being. It made it easier to communicate with one another. "Problem?" She asked with a raised eyebrow. Maggie put her hand over her phone's receiver and lowered it to her chest.
"Fuckers at Channel 3 demand we release the names of the victims, claim it's for the good of the public. They say that by withholding them we appear to be partaking in a farce, and I quote the fuckers 'Concocted by the fascist Para-military state that consists of the LAPD and its governing body the City Council. ' End quote." The younger detective cocked her head to the side with a look of exasperation.
Vivian blinked several times processing the fact that Maggie Donner just used a variant or the ‘F' word, twice. Then an evil smile edged her lips as she reached for her extension, she pressed the small rubber button next to a steady red light, "Hullo? Yes, this is the fascist in charge of this case. My name is Vivian Walsh, W A L S H, Sergeant Detective, badge number 2368." She paused as the hopeful reporter on the other end of the line was jotting down her information, "Ready?" She asked receiving an affirmative answer, "Fuck off. Have a nice day. We'll call you." She hung up the receiver and turned her attention back to the files on her desk.
Maggie slowly hung up her receiver and gaped at the blonde, "You can't tell the press to fuck off Viv, and give them your name? Don't you remember you have a press conference with them later tonight? They are going to eat you alive!"
"They can go to hell. They're wasting our time. We have sixty-seven kids to match up with families. We have hundreds, HUNDREDS, more to track down according to Franklin's well-kept records. They want a piece of me then they're gonna have to take it, because I'm not giving nothing away until these families have all been notified."
Maggie settled into her chair opposite her temporary partner. It had been forty-eight hours since the horrific find at the storage building, and no one had rested. They had made a quick side trip to the hospital where Vivian had a very one-sided conversation with a stubborn Quin McKee. A short twenty hours later the PI was missing from her hospital bed, and a very pissed off Detective Walsh had been on the warpath ever since. Maggie closed her eyes and rolled her head and shoulders to relieve the stress of the last two days. She took a deep breath and opened her eyes. She calmly looked across at her partner who was now skimming through a file in front of her. "Viv?"
"Hmm." Came the uncaring reply.
"Do you want me to call Quang, see if he's seen or heard from her?"
Vivian's head dropped a bit, then red-rimmed eyes lifted toward the red head, "I'm not going to chase after her. I don't have time for it. You don't have time for it, and these kids don't have time for it. She's a big girl, and there's nothing you, I, or even the ever trusty Quang can do to prevent her from doing harm to herself, or others for that matter. So let's focus on the here and now."
Both detectives held a long moment of eye contact before nods of agreement and small, joyless smiles set the issue aside as they returned to the task at hand.
Quin pulled her left shoulder up to her ear and felt the satisfying pops along her spine, her right shoulder was a no go for that activity so she moved on up to her neck, moving it right then left and sighing as the vertebrae put themselves back into something resembling a normal alignment. She adjusted the hood of the sweat jacket she stole
from some unsuspecting employee at the hospital, who was also kind enough to donate a loose pair of jeans and a faded black t-shirt. She had to cuff the jeans considerably so they didn't drag on the ground. The only piece of clothing she was able to salvage from her own things were her trusty greasy Doc's, that currently were held on her feet by several rubber bands. It seemed the ER crew found it necessary to cut her bootlaces to remove them. She stood about fifty yards from a Budget Inn, waiting. She had been waiting for about three hours, and darkness was closing in fast as the sun sank into the Pacific Ocean a few miles away. Quin looked up at the sky painted in brilliant oranges and purples. It was a beautiful fall night. She wished she was spending it quietly sipping hot cider on the porch of her house in the company of Vivian, but the sooner this case closed the sooner she could indulge in the finer things of life.
The brunette lit a cigarette and dragged the smoke deep into her lungs, letting the gold lighter twirl between her fingers as she waited. She heaved a sigh of relief as a large Cadillac Coup Deville pulled up in front of her and lowered a dark tinted window revealing a bulky man with olive skin and a baldhead. She sent the cigarette flying with a flick of her fingers and walked over to the car. "What do you have for me Charlie?"
The man smirked and pulled a crumpled paper bag from the passenger side seat. He let the bag rest in his lap as he placed the car in park, leaving it to idle while he conducted business. "You look like yesterday's puke McKee." He reached into the bag and brought out a polished chrome gun. "Nine millimeter auto." He stated as he slid back the barrel of the gun and let it slip back, loading a round into the chamber. "It's not clean." He handed the gun to the small woman who inspected it.
"Any thing bigger than a nine in that bag?" Quin asked freeing and inspecting the magazine, finding it fully loaded.
The man raised an eyebrow, "You call in the middle of lunch, demand a piece and then get choosey? I may have to reconsider doing business with you McKee."
"I like a gun that stops what's coming at me Charlie. I'm not big and brawny like you." Quin winked at the man.
"Sorry babe, but that's all I could get on such short notice. Don't carry it too long though, and wipe it clean when your done. It's very dirty."
"Thanks Charlie. I owe you one."
"The great Quin McKee owes me a favor. I'll have to write this down when I get home." The man chuckled at Quin's rolling eyes.
"Get out of here Charlie. Chances are that cops won't be far behind."
Charlie dropped the gearshift into drive, "Be careful McKee, call if you need anything, anytime. I still owe you plenty."
Quin smiled and nodded. "Take care, Charlie." She watched as the Caddy turned at the corner and disappeared into the quickly cooling night. She checked the gun one last time then tucked it in the small of her back, settling the sweat jacket over it. She crossed the street as the sky turned from purple to black and entered the office of the small motel.
The clerk motioned her over to the Formica-covered desk with a conspiratorial wave, the bright fluorescent lights glared off the plastic plants that lined the counters corners. Quin idly thought that someone must spend a lot of time polishing fake leaves, and then she wondered just how much a leaf polisher makes an hour. She smiled to herself and shook her head to dismiss the train of thought as she leaned slightly over the counter to receive the whispered information from the clerk. Another smile tugged at her lips as she looked around the deserted area, wondering exactly why it was the man was whispering. She nodded politely and received a room key. Life was so much simpler with a key. Quin thanked the man for the info and instructed him to call the police in ten minutes. She pushed the office door open and exited into the cool night air. She knew the room was up stairs and suppressed a groan as she approached the climb, she took a deep breath and tested her battered legs on the first riser. Finding it to be a bearable pain she took the second step with more confidence. By the time she reached the top she was gritting her teeth so tightly she was sure she busted a filling or two. She rested at the top and probed a finger along her bottom teeth, sighing in relief to find everything in tact. Several more deep breathes and she was able to almost breath normally again. She looked at the room key, just making out the worn number, then looked up at the orange doors to determine which way to go. Quin took one step to the right and a pain shot from her toes up to her head, blurring her vision, and taking her breath away. She doubled over gasping for air once again.
This is stupid, she berated herself as she sank down to sit on the top step her eyes closing from fatigue and pain. I'm stupid, she chuckled disparagingly. She tipped her head back and took a deep calming breath, wiling the pain to ebb away. Her eyes fluttered open, and blinked away the blur revealing a dusty cobweb long abandoned by its maker. A cool breeze fluttered the pale web in tiny waves below the dingy eaves that sheltered the upper level of the motel. Someone else could crash into the hotel room and subdue the bad guys, she was tired and hurt. She made her way down the stairs and slowly walked across the street to a pay phone.
Vivian felt a bit overwhelmed as she stared out over the throng of reporters. She wasn't totally inexperienced at giving press conferences, just totally inexperienced at media circuses. She raised her hands in an effort to quiet the raucous crowd of reporters, "If everyone will take their seats and settle down we can start." ‘Start', now there's a word, settle in folks, for I have a bizarre tale of slavery, greed, and police corruption to spin for you. She thought with a grim smile. The room began to calm down and soon all eyes were on her. "Three days ago, as you all know, we made a gruesome discovery of fifty-seven children between the ages of six and fourteen being held in deplorable conditions…"
McKee jockeyed for position in the crowded room trying to get a better view of her lover. She growled as a woman pushed her from behind making no apologies as she scooted around Quin to grab the last remaining seat. Vivian had already started speaking as the brunette side stepped to lean against the wall with a sigh of relief just to be still for a moment. Vivian went on about the gruesome details of the case as the PI scanned the room. Almost everyone's eyes were on the tall detective as she spoke except for a rail thin blonde woman that had assumed the same position against the opposite wall across from Quinn. Pale blue eyes locked with her own gray as the woman's head dipped just slightly and her thin lips said a silent ‘thank you' towards Quin, who reflexively looked about for the person the woman was speaking to, but found no one else in her immediate vicinity. She made eye contact with the woman again and pointed a finger at her chest in question. The woman smiled and nodded then put her arm around the person next to her giving the young man that stood there a gentle squeeze. Quin glanced at the young man who beamed a teary smile at her it was Christopher Dawson. The PI nodded in acceptance and offered a silent ‘you're welcome', toward the pair who smiled in acknowledgement, then turned their attention back to the press conference. Quin raised her eyes to the podium where Vivian continued to lay out facts for the throng of reporters and cameras. Her heart filled with love and for the first time Quin reflected on how truly lucky she was to have fallen in love twice in her lifetime. Certainly that was an odd occurrence and she vowed not to squander such a gift. She would be making changes to her behavior and to her life, in order to guarantee that she would be around to enjoy this newfound love.
There was a long pause in Vivian's monologue as a uniformed officer whispered something in her ear. She cleared her throat and scanned the crowd before her looking for one face in particular as she began to speak again. "I've just been informed that two more arrests have been made in this case, bringing the total to seventeen. Thanks to an anonymous tip we were able to take into custody two men we believe to be very close to the top of the organization that conducted this trade in human flesh." Her eyes finally found Quin propped against a wall to her left and she gave a slight nod and a small smile in the PI's direction before beginning to speak once more, "Again I'll reiterate what I said two days ago: anyon
e who has information that can lead the police to more children or suspects in this case should call us immediately. These people need to be brought to justice, and lives need to be returned to those unjustly enslaved for profit. In exactly three days a list will be released to the press of all the remaining children and young adults that we will not have been able to match with parents. Until then the current hotline number will be up and running twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week." Vivian took a deep breath and pushed her hand through her hair, "I'll answer a few questions now."
Quin took the opportunity to slip out of the crowded room as the noise level shot up and reporters vied for the attention of the blonde detective. She only got down the hall a few feet when a reporter yelled above the crowd, "Did the Angel of Justice assist the police on this case? Is tax payer dollars going to pay for vigilantes?" The PI was back in the crowded room and closing in on the man who was shouting above the other reporters, his question going unanswered as Vivian chose to ignore him and opted for one of the numerous TV reporters up front close to the podium. The room quieted to hear the exchange between reporter and detective. Quin could hear the man just in front of her mumble to himself, and his pen tap against the open notepad that he held at the ready. As soon as Vivian concluded her answer the voices rose again to garner her attention, and just as the man started to raise his hand and opened his mouth to once again bellow his question toward the podium, Quin clasped her hand around the back of his neck, and gave a firm squeeze, an action that did not go unpunished as her cracked ribs slipped against themselves causing her grip to intensify until she heard a little gasp from the man in her grip. She raise just a bit on tip toes to whisper in the man's ear, "You will step outside with me." She relaxed her grip just a bit to let the man turn his head to regard her. As he looked her up and down, obviously determining the threat if any she posed, she lifted her shirt to show the shiny 9mm pistol snuggled between her belly and the borrowed jeans she wore. The man paled, as the realization seemed to hit him that to ‘step outside' was not a request it was a command. Quin tangled her hand in the loose windbreaker the man wore and guided him out of the conference room and then silently down the hall, through a heavy steel door that led to parking garage full of empty police cruisers. A quick glance left than right and small satisfied smile as she spotted a nice out of the way niche behind two concrete pylons, which would give just enough cover from eyes, human and electronic. The man gave some resistance as she maneuvered him toward the alcove. She didn't manhandle him too much, mainly because she was in no condition to do so, but also because she just wanted a word with the reporter, not cause him any harm, permanent or otherwise. She settled him against the cold concrete wall and smiled her best disarming smile to put him at ease. "My name is Quin McKee, I'm a private investigator. And you are?"