The cat began to purr loudly. Elise stroked its soft fur and closed her eyes.
What a lovely, peaceful place…
David dried off and put on a white T-shirt and a pair of jeans, then wandered back into the living area. Elise was sitting in a dark corner, Isobel on her lap
purring like crazy. There was actually something tranquil and domestic about the little scene.
David opened the refrigerator. "Wanna beer?" he asked over his shoulder.
She mumbled a negative.
"Soda?"
Another negative.
"I have some news." He retrieved a diet cola, popped the top, and took a drink. "There have been four other confirmed cases of poisoning in the area in the past year, all by undetermined toxins. All in different jurisdictions, so nobody compared notes."
He sat on the stool at the kitchen counter, one bare foot braced against the crossbar, leaving the length of the small apartment between himself and Elise. "Unless it involves a case that's going to trial, most morgues don't keep tissue and blood samples over a certain amount of time, but I asked them to double-check just in case. If they come across anything like liver tissue, they're going to retest it for a broader range of toxins, then get back to us."
He took another swallow at sada^ " amp;JcahcJLo»i^w. a toxin. If some alcoholic showed up dead and his liver was toxic, chances are they didn't look any deeper, thinking he simply died of acute alcohol poisoning."
His partner seemed completely disinterested in the information he was relating.
"I can't remember your cat's name."
"Isobel."
"Isobel. That's a nice name."
"Let's forget about the cat a minute. Where have you been?"
"To see the TTX specialist."
"Without me?"
"Bad idea, I know."
"Is he willing to help? Did he have any relevant information?"
"We didn't get around to discussing it."
He frowned. Was she acting a little weird? A little out of it? "So, what happened? What did he say?"
"He offered me a drink of water."
She rocked and continued to stroke the cat. "In hindsight, I can see it was foolish of me to accept, because I believe it contained tetrodotoxin."
Everything stopped.
David replayed her last sentence in his head.
I believe it contained tetrodotoxin.
That's what she'd said. Exactly what she'd said.
He put down the soda can and slipped from the kitchen stool.
He rarely used the ceiling light because it was so blinding and unforgiving and made his place look stark and shitty.
He flipped it on now.
Elise raised her arm to shield her face. "Do you mind?"
He crossed the room and crouched in front of her, every cell focused on Elise. "Tell me what happened," he said levelly.
The cat let out a little meow of alarm, jumped from her lap, and disappeared down the hall.
"You scared Isobel," Elise chastised.
She had a gash on the back of one hand. It was no longer bleeding, but it looked as if it might need stitches. "Why didn't you say something?" He picked up her hand. "How did you get this?"
"I only took a swallow. I dropped the glass. It shattered. I fell on it. That's where I was when you were trying to call me. Paralyzed."
"Jesus."
The overhead light was still bothering her. She squinted against the brightness.
He grasped her chin with one hand and turned her face toward the light, examining her eyes. Her face, framed by dark hair, was ashen. Even her lips were colorless.
She pulled away.
"Your pupils are dilated."
"My system is messed up, but I'm not high."
He nodded. She seemed lucid. Exhausted, but lucid. "You should be in a hospital."
"And let the media get hold of this story? No, thanks. I'm fine."
He wanted to believe her. "That hand might need stitches."
She looked at it, turning it back and forth. "Think so?"
"Have you filed a report?"
She shook her head. "Not yet."
"Where's LaRue now?"
"I don't know. He was gone when the drug wore off four hours later."
David's emotions had been shut off for so long that now, when a wave of despair and anger hit him, he didn't know how to deal with it.
He sprang to his feet and turned away, hiding his face. Too much reality. If LaRue had stepped into the room at that moment, David would have killed him.
The intensity of his reaction scared him.
Get a grip, Gould.
Focus.
Put it away for now and do what you have to do.
He pulled in a deep breath and turned back around.
"Elise…" He paused, swallowed, then asked, "Do you need a rape kit?"
She looked surprised, as if it was something she hadn't considered. "N-no."
"Are you sure? Can you remember what happened during those four hours?"
She seemed uncertain. "Yes… and no."
She struggled to pull everything together. He imagined she was going over possible signs of rape in her head.
"I was there, and I wasn't." She gave it more thought. "No," she finally said. "It didn't happen."
"Okay. Good." He let out a breath and relaxed a little. "We've got to get you to the police station. You have to file a report. We need to catch this guy. Bring him in. Jesus. He's probably the one killing all these people."
"I don't know. Seems too easy. Too obvious."
"Every crime doesn't have to be hard to solve. Not if the perpetrator is a fucking idiot."
She closed her eyes and leaned back. "Too much anger" she said, her voice weak with exhaustion. "I don't feel like arguing."
"Right. Sorry." He raised his hands as if to choke an invisible person in front of him. "I'm upset." He dropped his hands.
He crossed the room, grabbed the phone receiver, and began punching numbers. "I'm ordering a crime scene team to LaRue's. They have to scour-" He stopped midsentence to direct his attention and dialogue to the person on the other end, making the arrangements that needed to be made.
"You should go to LaRue's and oversee the search," Elise said once David disconnected.
"I'm taking you to headquarters." He picked up the receiver again. "A late night visit to LaRue's seems just the thing for Starsky and Hutch."
After telephoning Starsky to give him an abbreviated version of what had happened, he packed Elise in his car and drove to the police station.
She wasn't accustomed to being on the victim side of the desk. It felt strange and a little surreal, the remnants of the drug in her system giving everything the sensation of a waking dream. After she signed the forms she needed to sign, they sent her to the crime lab to get six tubes of blood drawn.
While Gould waited in the break room, residue swab tests were taken of her mouth, lips, hands, and random places on her body. After that, she was stuck in a shower for fifteen minutes in case any small grain of TTX remained on her skin. That done, she was given a set of clean scrubs, her own clothes kept as evidence.
Butterfly bandages took care of her hand. On the way home, Gould swung by a Chinese restaurant, left the car idling by the door, and ran inside. He reappeared two minutes later with a white paper bag. "I called ahead," he explained, getting back in the car and passing the bag to her.