Lauren’s head lolled to one side. “Kane…?”
“I’m still here.”
“Be careful.”
I stayed with Lauren until police backup arrived. By then, although the worst of her bleeding had slowed, she’d lost a lot of blood and seemed to be going into shock, drifting in and out of consciousness. After a hurried conference with the arriving officers, I returned to her side and remained there until the ambulance squealed to a stop out front.
The paramedics worked rapidly, ensuring that Lauren had an open airway, applying gauze pressure bandages to the worst bleeders, and starting a saline drip. Within minutes they had her on a gurney and were wheeling her out to the street. I trailed them to the ambulance.
“Hang on, Van Owen,” I repeated as the white-jacketed team slid her into the back. One medic followed her in; the other slammed the double doors and climbed into the front. Seconds later the van roared off. Choked with guilt, I stood at the curb, watching as the ambulance’s taillights disappeared into the night.
46
I was summoned into Lieutenant Long’s office in West LA early the following morning. After entering, I stood in the center of the room and surveyed the officers seated across from me. In addition to Lieutenant Long, two others were present: Captain Theodore Lincoln, the West LA Division commanding officer, and Lieutenant Snead.
No one was smiling.
“You’ve got a lot of explaining to do, you insolent bastard,” said Snead. “When I heard what happened, I knew your grubby Irish prints would be all over it. This time you’ve gone too far.”
I stiffened but said nothing.
Captain Lincoln cleared his throat. Snead, who had been about to add something, deferred to the senior officer. “Detective Kane, we’re here to discuss the propriety of your relationship with Ms. Van Owen,” said Lincoln, speaking slowly and deliberately. “And make no mistake, if even half of Lieutenant Snead’s accusations are true, you’re in deep trouble. Both the chief and the mayor phoned this morning concerning this matter. They want to know why a member of the task force has been associating with a news reporter. Especially as that very reporter has been receiving confidential information from inside the department.”
I remained silent.
“Nothing to say? According to Lieutenant Snead, you also sidestepped the chain of command by extending surveillance on the Baker family.” The captain turned to Long. “I believe you played a part in that, Lieutenant?”
“Yes, sir, I did. And as things turned out-”
“How things turned out is unimportant,” Snead broke in.
“I disagree,” said Long. “The way I see it, it was because of Kane that the task force actually had a chance of arresting the killer, and you blew it. If things had worked out differently, you’d be kissing Kane’s ass right now.”
“Even a blind squirrel occasionally finds a nut,” Snead countered. “The point is, Kane ignored a direct order. We’ve got a pattern going here. Your maverick detective seems to think he can pursue any agenda he likes. Well, this time somebody got hurt.”
“You think Kane is responsible for Van Owen’s attack?”
“Possibly.” Snead glared at me. “There’s no doubt he’d been feeding her information.”
“That’s ridiculous,” objected Long. “Captain, there’s clearly a personality thing going on here. Snead has no proof of any of this.”
“No?” said Snead. “We checked Kane’s phone log. Van Owen left a message for him on Monday morning, the day before her attack. He called her back, then went to her condo at eight-fifteen that night.”
“You had Kane followed? ” Long said angrily.
Snead shrugged. “I was told to plug the leak. As Kane seemed the most likely hole, I had friends at Internal Affairs look into things.”
“I wasn’t aware you had any friends,” said Long.
“Let’s stick to the issues,” Captain Lincoln broke in, shooting a scowl at Long. Then, to me, “How do you explain visiting Ms. Van Owen at her home, Detective?”
“Oh, his dealings with her went a lot further than a visit,” Snead snorted. “Last Thursday Detective Kane met Van Owen at a West Los Angeles bar. From there he took her to a little love nest in Brentwood, where the two spent the night. Like I said, we’ve got a pattern going here, Captain. Kane’s been screwing with the media, and in more ways than one.”
“Has anyone talked with Van Owen?” Lincoln asked.
“Yes, sir,” answered Snead, clearly enjoying himself. “She wouldn’t say anything about Kane except that she had phoned him for help. Unfortunately, she wasn’t able to give much of a description of her attacker. Apparently the guy took her down as soon as she opened her door. She doesn’t remember much after that until waking up tied to her bed. Even with all he subsequently did to her, she never got a good look at him.”
Captain Lincoln returned his gaze to me. “Do you have anything to say for yourself, Detective?”
“No, sir,” I said.
“In that case, pending additional investigation and at the request of Lieutenant Snead, you are hereby dropped from the task force. I could also suspend you from duty, but I’m not going to. Not yet, anyway. You can thank Lieutenant Long for that. In the meantime, you will resume your duties here at the West LA Division.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And Kane, until this is over, I’d advise you to keep your nose clean. Dismissed.”
Later that day, after visiting Lauren at the UCLA Medical Center, I spent several hours catching up on all homicide investigations currently being handled by the West LA unit. Afterward I called Deluca at task force headquarters. Deluca, who was currently on hotline duty, seemed to welcome the diversion. “Damn, Kane,” he said. “Talk about screwin’ the pooch. And you, of all people, a straight-from-the-Old Testament, never-look-at-another-woman married man. Maybe you are human after all. But a reporter? What were you thinking?”
“I wasn’t,” I said regretfully. “God knows, if I could go back and change things, I would.”
A long pause. “So why’d you call?”
“I need a favor.”
“No problem. What?”
“Clean out my desk for me and drop all the stuff by the West LA squad room tomorrow morning, okay?”
“So it’s true? You’re off the case?”
“Yeah.”
“Sorry to hear that.”
“Me, too. Listen, I also need a copy of the task force database we’ve been compiling.”
Another long pause.
“Paul?”
“You’re joking.”
“No. Back it up on a computer disc and toss it in with the rest of my stuff.”
“Anything else you can think of that might get me canned? How’s about if I punch out Snead for you, too?”
“If it comes up, I’ll say the disc was in my drawer.”
“You’re asking a lot,” said Deluca, lowering his voice. “What do you want that information for, anyway?”
“It’s better you don’t know. C’mon, Paul, will you help me or not?”
“Yeah, I’ll do it,” Deluca sighed. “You’re gonna owe me big on this, paisano.”
“Thanks,” I said. Then, before Deluca could change his mind, “Anybody down there miss me yet?”
“If they do, I’ll start insulting the brass and raising hell at the briefings. No one will even realize you’re gone. Which reminds me. Arnie called. He says he can meet you for dinner if you’re free. That cute brunette he’s boffin’ must be busy tonight.”
“Either that, or his can opener’s busted. Anything else?”
“Nope. Oh, I did notice a couple of message slips on your desk. Gimme a sec.” A pause, then, “One’s from yesterday. A woman, no name.” Deluca read off a Brentwood phone number.
I recognized it as Lauren’s, realizing she that must have tried to reach me at task force headquarters before calling the beach house. “What’s the other?”
“A guy who says he has some information you requested. I took that one myself. Damn, I can barely read my own writing.”
“You and everybody else. What’s the guy’s name?”