“You fell and landed in a pile of bricks and cracked your head like a coconut,” Jake smiled weakly.
“I fell?”
“She fell? Then why does she have two black eyes Super Fed?” Clint challenged.
“Jake, could you give Charlie and me a minute please?” Clint asked.
Jake looked at Clint and then narrowed his eyes at Charlie. She mouthed “please Baby” and Jake stepped away from the bed. “I’ll be right outside this door,” he said, mostly to Clint.
“Gee thanks, Agent Adams,” Clint snapped. “Good to know.”
Clint sat down on the bed and tried to take her hand but she pulled away. “Seriously, Clint? I’m lying here in a hospital bed and you’re still going to stand there and try to measure dicks with this guy?”
“Why do men insist on measuring their dicks?” Clint said and grinned. If there was any way to test Charlie for brain damage it would be with a movie line, Clint thought.
“Jesus Clint. Tin Cup, Renee Russo said it.”
“Her character’s name?”
“Molly Griswold.”
“Hey! Great! No brain damage!” Clint announced. “That’s my girl and I’d win that measuring contest, in case there was any doubt in your mind.”
Charlie’s face turned serious. “I’m not your girl. I’m his girl. I’m your sergeant and at Hanican’s, I was your partner, now what the hell happened out there? It’s all so fuzzy.”
Clint recounted the whole thing, “When you didn’t come back, I went looking for you. As I got closer to the house, I heard the gunshot and I found you all bloody on the ground, so I called a Signal 13 and the cavalry came running. Your boyfriend out there appeared in seconds. Seconds, Charlie. He said he was parked nearby in case something went down. Yeah right!”
Charlie interrupted, “You mean like you were the night before? Go on.” Clint stared down at the sheets and shook his head ‘no,’ refusing to acknowledge that it was same thing.
“Once we got you out of there, we started our search. By the way, do you believe those fucking heroes staged a block away? Staged for an officer down!”
“It’s standard operating procedure for them to wait until the scene is safe and makes perfect sense, they don’t have weapons, you Thompson disciple,” she said. “Go on.”
“Anyway, the back door of the house was open, so we swept the house and it was empty. When K-9 got there, they immediately headed toward the back corner of the yard where we found Hanican DRT.”
“Dead? Was it like the others? Plastic wrap around the head?” she asked, animated.
He shook his head ‘no.’ “Single gunshot wound to the head.”
The door cracked open and Jake stuck his head inside. “Everything okay in here?” Jake asked.
“Fine, Agent.” Clint said exasperated. “I was going to smother her with this pillow but now I’ve changed my mind.” Charlie gave Jake an I’m sorry look and a thumbs-up and Jake closed the door.
“He was shot?”
“With your gun, Sarge,” Clint said gravely.
“What?” she said in disbelief. “I shot Hanican? I don’t even remember encountering him.”
“Grecko is still combing through the crime scene, he’s devastated that you were hurt, by the way. Jesus, I thought he was going to fucking cry.”
“Sweet Clint,” she said impatiently. “The gunshot wound?”
“There are a lot of theories out there but right now it looks like he found you unconscious and took your gun. I think that’s bullshit. I think he knocked you unconscious and took your gun but wonder boy out there thinks you fell. He obviously thinks you’re some kind of a klutz. I would never say that or think that of you. I mean, your driving sucks but you’re no klutz.”
“McCallister!”
“Oh, right. Sorry. Anyway, it looks like he offed himself with your weapon in the backyard. Grecko found a note in his pocked that said, “I’m sorry” and it had the addresses and names of the other five scumbags in the order they were taken out, each with a line through them.”
Charlie screwed up her face.
“See! See! That’s exactly what I’m saying! Too neat right? Too fucking big-red-bow right.”
“Yea, it’s kind of too easy. What else?” she prodded.
“Well, they found plastic wrap, a few Tyvek suits and chemicals in his unlocked shed but come on, anyone could have put those there. You could have put them there!”
“So that’s your theory? I framed him?” she quipped. “You’re only allowed to accuse me of a felony once every ten years McCallister.”
“You know what I mean, Sarge. Come on! You’re not buying this horseshit, are you? Because the captain sure as hell is and someone needs to talk some sense into him before he talks to the press and closes this case.”
“Too late,” Charlie said and pointed to the TV, where Captain Grisolm had a gaggle of microphones stuck in his face outside the hospital’s main doors.
“So what do you think happened Clint? I want to hear it,” she said as Jake came in.
“The press conference is on,” he said reaching for the remote and turning it up. The three of them stood there and listened to the captain’s spin on how the people of Landon could rest easy tonight because the “Landon Police, the FBI, and a very brave Sergeant Cavanaugh, who is expected to recover from very serious injuries, solved the serial.”
Clint rolled his eyes. “The Feds are getting part of the credit for this? Jesus, Adams, you weren’t even supposed to be there last night.”
“Nor were you the night before, Detective,” Jake said glaring at Clint.
“How the hell did you know . . .”
“Take it easy Clint,” Charlie interrupted.
“There is plenty of credit to go around. We all worked really hard on this,” Jake said.
“I’m not sure we’re done working on it, Agent. Charlie and I aren’t buying this shit for a second,” he said moving closer to Charlie’s bed.
Charlie gave Clint the look. “Clint, when is the last time you slept? Shut your pie hole before the captain suspends you again. Go home and get some sleep. I should be out of here soon and we’ll talk then okay?”
“Yea, okay. I am pretty beat and I do have a bed warmer at home waiting for me,” he said raising his eyebrows.
“He means Chronic, his German Shepherd,” Charlie said, rolling her eyes at Jake.
“Was that necessary? See, I’m thinking that was not necessary,” Clint said, shaking his head as he left the room.
“Clint still spinning his conspiracy theories?” Jake asked disinterested. She nodded.
“You?” she asked.
“This Hanican guy sounds, looks, and walks like a duck. He’s a fucking duck. You ready to go home, Beautiful?”
Chapter 34
Move the Dash
Charlie chatted away into her cell phone, “Hey Clint, go ahead and bring me the case files. Yea, I’m going to do my supplements from home. This Nervous Nelly doctor isn’t going to release me to full duty until the stiches come out in two fucking weeks . . . I know it’s ridiculous. I told him I’m a desk jockey ninety percent of the time . . . Yeah okay, well not lately but usually,” she laughed.
She hung up to find Jake giving her a disapproving look. “What part of off work did you not hear, Charlie?”
“Oh, come on. It’s not going to hurt my head to get these reports out of the way. By the way Agent, have you finished yours yet?” she asked.
“No ma’am I have not. I have been too busy attending to your every need,” he said, slyly.
“My needs . . . Yes, about that. My needs have not been met since I left the hospital. The doctor did not say we couldn’t play. He just said to take it easy. Is that possible, Agent Adams?” she flirted.
“You’re about to find out, Sergeant,” he said taking her han
d and trying to lead her to the bedroom. “Noooo,” she protested. “Clint’s on his way and he’s bringing Gay Dolphin!”
“And that would be my cue!” he said, turning and heading toward the door.
“Jesus! Can’t you two play nice?”
“We can, but we won’t. I’m going to go to the hotel to shower and change and grab some fresh clothes suitable for two weeks of movies and lovemaking.” He grinned.
“Here’s your hat. What’s your hurry?” she smiled.
Clint arrived with the case files and orange crusted chicken. They had a relaxed and easy visit. Charlie was relieved to find that though Clint still believed there was more work to be done on the case, he was starting to make room for the possibility that it was what it was. Though he reminded her that there were still some loose ends. Grecko did not have all of the forensics back, the ME’s office still hadn’t waved off on the puncture wounds, and his computer friend still had not been able to nail down AJ’s IP address location. “He said the trail disappears almost as soon as he picks it up. This AJ guy really might be some kind of CIA spook. It would explain a lot.”
“How would he have known about the stakeout though?” she pondered.
“I’m thinking something else,” Clint said cryptically and Charlie raised an eyebrow. “I’m thinking your FBI buddy might not have as secure a communications link as he thinks. Or else he’s sharing the info about our stakeouts with his fed buddies. You know how those assholes are.”
“Clint.”
“Sorry. I know. You’re in love with him. I have to play nice. Yada yada.”
“You missed a yada.”
“How’s your coconut, Sarge?”
“I’m okay. But my hair is fucked up.”
“As pretty as you are, it won’t matter,” he said, locking onto her eyes which had softened as she gazed back.
“Hey, try to raise this AJ guy again,” he suggested, trying to change the subject.
“Good idea!” she said, running to the bedroom for her laptop. Clint ran his fingers through his hair and tried to get his game face on.
VABlueAngel: AJ? You there?
VABlueAngel: Please AJ. Did you know that I was in the hospital? I’m guessing you knew.
VABlueAngel: I don’t want to leave it like this AJ. Can’t we at least say goodbye? Please?
AJ101-789: I’m glad you’re okay. I’ll never forget you Charlotte. Goodbye Angel.
“See if you can keep him talking. I’m calling Elahi over at VBPD.” She tried to keep it going but there was no response from AJ. She felt sure it was the last time she would ever hear from him and it made her sad. She was sorry that she thought he might be involved when he clearly wasn’t, sorry that she had hurt him, and sorry that she would never know if he was safe.
“Sorry, Clint, but I think this chapter of my life is closed,” she said sadly. She didn’t mean Clint, but that’s what he heard. He tucked her hair behind her ear as Jake had done. His eyes were big and sad. “It doesn’t matter. Elahi didn’t pick up. I’ll call him again later.”
There was a knock at the door and Clint asked with his eyes if it was okay if he answered it and she nodded. It was Jake. “Oh, so now we knock huh?”
“Why are you still here McCallister?”
“Funny, I was just about to ask you the same thing.”
“Knock it off you two,” Charlie moaned.
“I’ll see you later, Sarge,” Clint said as he headed out, glaring at Jake as he went.
“That guy is a dick.”
“No, he isn’t,” she said trying to look annoyed but finding it impossible looking at Jake. He was wearing worn jeans, sneakers, and a blue sweatshirt. It was a completely charming look for him and she wanted to crawl inside him.
“Are you hungry? There’s plenty. He brought enough for you, too,” she offered.
“Well, isn’t he a fucking prince. Yes, I am hungry. Where were we?” he said, again taking her hand and leading her to the bedroom. Successfully this time.
It turns out it was possible for Jake Adams to make love slowly. He spent hours gently caressing her and teasing her as though she were made of glass. He spent most of his time gently stroking her rings with his tongue. Several times she tried to ignite the process but Jake was fully in control. He would move to her face, kiss her gently, and whisper in her in her ear, “Lie still, Baby.” It was the longest, sweetest uninterrupted lovemaking session they had ever had. They were both wholly present and it was heaven. It ended unexpectedly with his climax rather than hers and she basked in it able to fully feel the rush inside her. It was the happiest Charlotte had ever been in her life. Bad hair and all.
She awoke to find that the sun had set and her phone was vibrating. Jake was sleeping peacefully beside her. It was Clint. She silenced the phone, it could wait. As she did she saw four other calls from him and three texts saying he was in the parking lot and needed to speak with her ASAP. She looked through a slit in the curtains and saw his green jeep so she quietly stepped out of the room with her phone and went to the kitchen.
He answered on the first ring. “Charlie! Jesus Christ I was about to break down the door,” he slurred.
“Clint, what the hell is going on? Are you drunk?”
“Come down here now! I need to tell you something! Istsss very important.”
“Clint. I am a patient supervisor and I am your friend but so help me God, I will fucking fire your ass. Stay put. I’m calling a cab for you and I want you to go home and sleep it off and we will talk tomorrow.”
“Okay, you’re right, of course you’re right. I’m sorry, but I only had beer. I swear. Just too many. But this couldn’t wait. It can’t wait Charlie. I heard from Elahi. Please come down here!”
“It’s the middle of the night and I am not coming down there McCallister. I told you this is over. The case is closed,” she whispered, trying not to wake Jake.
“How can you say it’s closed Charlie? This AJ guy could be the link to all six targets and he’s not in in the Middle East. He’s here. He’s in fucking Landon! I told you something wasn’t adding up. I told you,” his slur becoming more pronounced with the addition of emotion.
“Clint I am not discussing this while you are drunk. I am calling a cab for you now.” Charlie’s hand shook as she dialed the cab company, the number programmed into her brain from calling cabs for so many other drunks. Clint’s words rang in her ears. He’s here. He’s in fucking Landon. She wondered if she should wake Jake. “Hi Lenora, it’s Sergeant Cavanaugh over at the PD. I’ve got one for you . . . Oh wow, bad news travels fast . . . yes I’m fine, thank you for asking, just a little banged up . . .” She gave Loose Lenora—her pet name from the guys in patrol—the address and vehicle description and ignored Clint trying to break into the call. She stood at the window watching for the cab. She couldn’t see inside the Jeep but she knew Clint was looking up at her. He’s here. He’s in fucking Landon.
Why didn’t she want to know? Fucking Clint! Her world was perfect. The man she loved was sleeping in her bed, the case was solved, and she was being hailed a hero for tripping over a pile of bricks.
She glared down at the Jeep, cursing the taxi for not being there already. Then she saw the door open as Clint headed for her stairs. Shit! She met him on the second landing as the cab was pulling up. “Not one fucking word McCallister!” she ordered. “Cab! Now! Home!”
He lowered his head at her tone and then forcefully took her by the shoulders and got in her face. “He screwed up. He didn’t cloak his last transmission. The last transmission from AJ101-789 came from the WIFI at the Landon Radisson,” he said, searching her face for a reaction. “You still want me to go?”
“Yes,” she said emotionless.
“Charlie . . .”
“Back the fuck off Clint. Go. Now.”
She stood and watched as he trip
ped over the last step and made his way to the back seat of the cab. She didn’t see him climb out the other side. Her stomach heaved as she made her way back up the stairs. Once inside she stood motionless, except for the shaking. She went to the refrigerator and opened a ginger ale in an attempt to bribe her heaving stomach into submission. The case folder lay on the countertop next to her laptop. It was high noon time, she and her case file staring each other down. She reached for it slowly, as though it were a snake and started flipping through the pages. She stopped at Clint’s pattern analysis and then flipped to articles he had printed out.
Thirteen-Year-Old Boy Shoots Sexually Abusive Parents
Daniel August Jones, San Francisco Times October 17, 1989 Anaheim, CA
A thirteen-year-old boy called 911 today at 5:00 a.m. to report that he had shot and killed both his parents. Police report the deceased as Gerard and Gwendolyn Jacobson of the Bay area. The 911 tapes reflect that Adam Homer Jacobson is the self-professed killer, though officials will not confirm this because the accused is a juvenile. Unofficial police sources confirm that the thirteen-year-old Jacobson allegedly shot his parents as they slept and then called police to turn himself in. Investigation into the scene and crime uncovered a wealthy and kinky lifestyle in which the Jacobson’s only child was routinely “loaned” to “sexual swinging partners” at weekly parties given at the lavish Jacobson estate, complete with full BDSM sexual dungeon. Mark Jacobson, a business man and sole heir to the Case Hard Steel Lock empire, a multi-million-dollar corporation, lead a life of luxury and lascivious behavior. Neighbors report numerous parties and neighborhood rumors of nude swims, wife swapping, and sexual deviance abound. The Jacobson’s son has not been charged but is being held in “protective custody” according to Anaheim officials.
Nothing. No bells. No shiver. Was she was missing something or was this just another attempt by Clint to make her second guess Jake? She opened her laptop. Her conversation with AJ, still carelessly on the screen. She hoped Jake had not seen it. She hadn’t discussed AJ with him and she caught a chill when she remembered how possessive he could be.
The Hooker, the Handyman and What the Parrot Saw Page 26