“I didn’t-”
“You didn’t check his record?”
Hart held up the snapshots of Chisolm’s vehicle. “He had pictures. He said-”
“He’s a scumbag rapist piece of shit,” Chisolm said.
“Officer, that’s not-”
“We’re done here,” Chisolm said, standing up. “If you want to rip me for supposedly speeding based on the word of this lowlife, go for it.”
Hart swallowed, unable to reply.
Chisolm turned and stalked from the room.
What an asshole, he thought. That thought was quickly followed by, Seems like old times.
Chisolm smiled slightly as he left the Internal Affairs office.
2043 hours
“You want a beer, hon?”
Tower looked up from his hands. Stephanie stood at the glass slider door with a pair of Kokanee bottles in her hand.
“Sure,” he said.
She stepped outside onto the small patio and slid the door closed. When she settled into the chair next to him, she proffered one of the beers. He took it wordlessly.
The two sat in silence for several minutes. Tower sipped his beer and listened as Stephanie sipped hers. After a while, he became aware of her shivering, despite wearing his bulky sweater.
“You can go inside,” he said.
“I’m fine.”
“You’re shivering.”
“It’s the beer, that’s all.”
“Steph, you’re cold. Go inside.”
“I want to sit with you.”
Tower glanced over. “It’s okay. You can go inside.”
Stephanie responded by pulling the large sweater close to her and drawing her knees to her chest. “Not until you tell me what’s wrong.”
“Nothing’s wrong.”
Stephanie sighed. “You’re such a guy, John.”
“Should I say thank you?”
“If you had a hole in your chest, you’d deny it was bleeding.”
“Only if it wasn’t.”
“It is,” Stephanie said. “Now what’s the matter?”
Tower shrugged. “Just work.”
“I figured that. What specifically?”
It was Tower’s turn to sigh. “I caught a couple of rapes.”
“That’s your job, isn’t it?”
“Yeah.”
“So what’s the big deal-wait! Do you mean that one on the news? The Rainy Rapist or whatever?”
Tower nodded glumly. “That’s the one.”
“Oh, John,” Stephanie said. “That’s scary. Some strange guy out there raping women? It makes every woman worry.”
“I know. Believe me, I know.”
“Are you going to catch him soon?”
“I’m trying.”
“Are you close?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Jesus!” Tower stood suddenly and drained the beer. He fixed Stephanie with a tight, cold smile. “Well, I’m fucking trying, all right?”
He strode to the sliding door and flung it open. Once inside, he didn’t know where to go, so he stalked into the kitchen and then stomped down the hall to the bedroom. The stalking and the stomping didn’t make him feel any better, so he slammed the door.
The slamming felt good. He took a few deep breaths.
What the hell?
The thought floated through his mind as he stood next to the bed. His pulse pounded in his neck. He sat on the edge of the bed and stared down at his feet. Why was he so stressed? He’d had tough cases before. Hell, the Dugger case last year had been a huge burden. Missing child? That brought some serious pressure. So why was this getting to him?
He knew the answer, of course. This one was all his. No partner. And the guy was still out there, planning his next attack. That is, if he planned. Either way, he was a ticking time bomb. And all he could do at this point was sit and wait for that bomb to go off.
Tower took another deep breath through his nose and let it out slowly through his mouth.
Relax.
Nothing more you can do tonight.
He took another breath.
I want to catch this son of a bitch.
Another breath.
Stephanie didn’t deserve that outburst, he realized. For that matter, neither did Renee earlier in the day. Both of them were trying to help him. He shouldn’t have treated them so poorly.
He drifted into the facts of the case again. He ran through the facts that he did know, the precious few things he could say he knew for sure. What did they reveal? Nothing of value. So what were his options? He could wear out shoe leather, a la Crawford. Or he could hope that Renee got lucky with her computer searches. But if one of those approaches didn’t yield some results quickly, he knew his next step was going to be to simply wait for this guy to strike again.
Great police work, John.
He drove his fist into his palm. He hated this feeling of impotence that coursed through him. There had to be something he could do.
Renee’s words came back to him. She wanted him to use his imagination. That meant trying to climb inside the mind of this sick fuck. He didn’t relish the prospect of doing that. Still, maybe she had a point.
The sound of the door opening caused him to look up. Stephanie stood in the doorway. Her eyes were wet with tears, but her mouth formed a tight, angry line.
“John, I know you’re under stress, but — ”
He stood and stepped toward her.
“-there’s no reason for you to take it out on me.”
He reached out to her and pulled her into his arms. “You’re right, Steph. I’m sorry.”
“I was only trying to help,” she said, her voice dissolving into a squeak. He felt her shoulders hitch.
“I’m sorry, baby,” he whispered. “I’m sorry.”
Stephanie cried into his chest.
They stood in the bedroom, finding each other in the silence.
SEVEN
Wednesday, April 17th
Graveyard Shift
2119 hours
“If I knew anything more about it,” Sergeant Shen told Sully and Battaglia, “I’d tell you. All I know is that Lieutenant Hart wants to see you both at 0600 hours tomorrow morning. He didn’t say what it was about.”
“Both of us?” Sully asked.
Shen nodded. “Both.”
“Do we need Union representation?”
Shen shrugged. “Your call. You’re entitled if you want it.”
Sully glanced over at Battaglia. “Who’s the Graveyard Union rep?”
Battaglia shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know.”
Sully looked back at Shen. “Did he say if we were a witness or an accused?”
Shen shook his head. “I told you everything I know. Zero six hundred tomorrow. That’s it. Anything you want to tell me?”
“No,” Sully said.
“No,” Battaglia said.
Shen looked from one officer to the other. “Then you’re dismissed.”
Sully and Battaglia turned in unison and left the office.
“It’s that fucking gnome,” Battaglia whispered as they headed down the hallway outside the sergeant’s office.
Sully shushed him.
“I’m telling you-”
“Shhhh.”
Battaglia reluctantly stopped talking.
When they reached the basement, Sully finally spoke. “I told you that guy would complain.”
Battaglia opened up the trunk and tossed in his patrol bag. “So?”
“So, now we’re in hot water.”
“That guy was an asshole.”
“So were we.”
Battaglia shrugged. “It’s small time, Sully.”
“That’s why Hart wants to see us?”
Battaglia snorted. “Hart will make a mountain out of a mole-hill.”
“True,” Sully agreed. “But he’ll make sure you get suspended for that mole-hill, too.”
Battaglia nodded. “You’re right. Now let’s go work.”
Sully stared at him in surprise. “How can you shrug it off like that?”
Battaglia removed his side handle baton and slid it into the holder on the passenger side of the patrol car. Then he looked up at Sully. “I figure, what the hell can I do about it now? So let’s go work.”
Sully met his gaze, his mind processing Battaglia’s words. Then he shrugged, too. “You’re right.”