Неизвестный - 4. Justice In The Shadows

“What a surprise.” Catherine reached for Rebecca’s hand as she kissed Rebecca’s cheek. “I’m so glad to see you.”

Rebecca laced her fingers between Catherine’s and pulled her gently out of the path of the steady stream of hospital visitors. “Any chance you can get away for a while?”

“I have a little over two hours before I need to see patients in my office.” Catherine tilted her head, searching Rebecca’s eyes, appreciating the warmth she found there. “Just what do you have in mind, Detective?”

“I suppose there’s no chance we could roll around in the on-call room for a while?” Rebecca took a step closer until her body lightly touched Catherine’s.

Catherine drew a surprised breath and then saw the amusement flickering in her lover’s face. “You shouldn’t tease me while I’m working, darling.”

“I was only partly teasing.” Rebecca’s voice dropped a register as she traced her fingers over Catherine’s forearm. “But I suppose you’d like dinner instead.”

“I’d like both,” Catherine murmured. “But I think the rolling around part should wait until later.”

“Where are we going?” Catherine asked.

“DiCarlo’s.”

“You’re kidding. On the spur of the moment like this?” Catherine turned in her seat to study Rebecca’s face. “Is this a special occasion?”

Rebecca shook her head. “Nope. I just thought you’d like it.”

“Oh, I like it.” Catherine rested her hand on Rebecca’s thigh, softly running her fingers up and down the tight muscles beneath. “Thank you.”

“For what?” Rebecca asked curiously as she pulled into the small gravel parking lot adjoining the century-old mansion that housed DiCarlo’s restaurant.

“You don’t usually stop work this early.”

Rebecca blushed. She wasn’t used to anyone being able to tell what was going on with her as easily as Catherine. It wasn’t that she minded; it was just that it continued to surprise her. “I’m not done, exactly. I’ll explain over dinner.”

Once they had ordered and were alone, Rebecca said, “I’ll be going back out for a few hours this evening.”

“Will you come by the apartment when you’re done?” Catherine still found it necessary to ask, uncertain of how much to expect at this point in their relationship.

“Yes, if you don’t mind that it might be late.” Each time they had this conversation, Rebecca was anxious. Every relationship she’d ever had had suffered and ultimately failed because of who she was. Because of the cop she was.

Catherine raised an eyebrow. “Rebecca, I know you have to work. I know what you do. You don’t need to apologize for that by taking me out to dinner.”

“I’m not…” Rebecca fell silent as the waiter brought their first course. “It’s not that. Not totally. I wanted to see you. I… I miss you. Jesus, I just saw you this morning, but I miss you.”

Catherine reached across the table and took Rebecca’s hand. “I don’t want you to feel guilty about being who you are. I love you. And loving you means loving the cop in you. I know that.”

Rebecca brought Catherine’s hand to her lips and kissed her palm softly. “I just want to do everything right.”

“Well, you’re doing very well so far.” Catherine carefully drew her hand away, because the heat from Rebecca’s fingers was making it difficult for her to think. “Are you working on a new case?”

“Uh…” Swiftly, Rebecca calculated, trying to gauge how much she should say. “Officially, I’m not working on anything. Henry wants me to see Whitaker another time or two before he’ll clear me to resume full duty.”

“Officially.” Catherine’s stomach clenched. “And unofficially?”

“Unofficially I’ve been green lighted to continue looking into the pornography ring.” Rebecca had heard the undertone of anxiety that Catherine had tried to hide. “A lot of it we can do right from Sloan’s, with computer traces, just the way we have been doing. You don’t need to worry.”

“Rebecca, darling,” Catherine said softly. “I will try my very best to understand and support you. I truly mean that. But you can’t expect me not to worry.”

“I promise it will be all right.” Rebecca reached for Catherine’s hand again. “Try to believe that.”

“Will you let me help?”

Rebecca’s first impulse was to say no, but she forced out the words. “Yes. Chances are we’ll need your profiling input.”

“Good. I hate what’s happened, too, and I want to help.”

Rebecca rubbed her face briskly with her free hand. “God, this relationship business is tough.”

Catherine laughed, her eyes suddenly sparkling. “I love you, Rebecca Frye.”

“What did I do?”

“And that’s one of the big reasons why. You give me what I need, just because you’re you.”

After Rebecca dropped Catherine off at the hospital, she made one quick stop and then headed north for Old City and the renovated warehouse that was both Sloan Security’s central office and Michael and Sloan’s home. Once inside, she found Jason McBride, Sloan’s business associate, studying a computer monitor. When he glanced in her direction, she could tell immediately that he’d been working without sleep for at least two days.

“Hi, Rebecca.”

“Jason.” She glanced around. “Mitchell and Watts here yet?”

“No,” a voice from behind Rebecca answered.

Rebecca turned and saw Sloan walking toward her. The security consultant, who wore her signature blue jeans, white T-shirt, and scuffed brown boots, looked roughly twice as bad as Jason. Still, Rebecca was happy to see that Sloan’s eyes were clearer than they had been in days.

“Sloan. Good to see you.” Rebecca held out her hand in greeting. “How’s Michael?”

“She was awake for a few minutes this afternoon.” Sloan smiled as she shook Rebecca’s hand. “I’m going back to the hospital soon, but when Jason said you were coming over, I wanted to be here.”

Before Rebecca could reply, a small series of pings signaled activity from the perimeter cameras. She turned to her left and glanced at another series of monitors. Watts and Mitchell were displayed climbing the steps to the front door. Another minute passed, and then Watts and Mitchell joined the group.

“Just like old times,” Watts rumbled.

Mitchell, also in jeans, a black T-shirt, and motorcycle boots, sidled over to Jason and peered over his shoulder at the computer. “Sweet,” she murmured, a note of excitement in her voice.

Rebecca walked over to Jason. “Can you leave that program running or do you have to baby-sit it?”

He shook his head. “No. If we get a hit, it will freeze the frame.”

“Okay, then, listen up,” Rebecca said, getting everyone’s attention. “Let’s go get some coffee and assess the situation.”

They moved into the conference room in the rear, filled coffee cups, and settled around the granite-topped table.

“We’ve got a week or so to finish what we started with the investigation into the Internet porn ring,” Rebecca stated. She looked at the people gathered around. “I have two primary goals—the first is finding out how and where they’re getting the kids, where they’re stashing them, and who’s behind the video business.”

Sloan’s right hand tightened into a fist. “What about—”

“The second,” Rebecca continued, unperturbed, “is finding out who leaked the Intel about the raid last night and ordered the hit on Sloan. When we know that, we’ll know who put Michael in the hospital.”

“How we gonna work it?” Watts asked.

“From two directions,” Rebecca replied. “Sloan and Jason will work the computers ID’ing the players in the porn video. Mitchell—you work the chat rooms and see if there’s anything going around there that could lead us to a name.”

Mitchell nodded, her expression intent.

“Sloan,” Rebecca met Sloan’s hot eyes, reading the need for action, for retribution, in her purple gaze, “I need you to do some hacking.”

“Into where?”

Rebecca hesitated, glancing once at Mitchell. The young officer returned her scrutiny steadily. “Into the police department.”

Watts muttered softly, “Fuck me.”

“Someone raided the Crime Scene Unit’s master files and derailed the investigation into the deaths of two police officers.” Rebecca blew out a breath. “I’m betting that person was the same one who fingered you for the hit, Sloan.”

“We need street Intel,” Watts said into the ensuing silence. “All this computer jerking o—uh, investigating, is fine, but we need names, leads, something to chase.”

“That’s the second wing of our operation. You and I will work that, Watts.” She glanced at her watch just as the repetitive ping of the security system sounded again.

“System—show sector one,” Sloan ordered and a monitor mounted on a wall bracket flashed to the landing in front of the main entrance.

Mitchell gasped.

A thin blond in low-riding jeans and a skin-tight top stood staring into the camera. The audio picked up her voice. “I’m here, so you gonna open up or what? Hey, Frye? Jesus.”

“That would be my CI,” Rebecca remarked flatly. “Better let her in before she starts taking the door apart.”

CHAPTER FIVE

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Watts swiveled in his chair to follow the progress of the newest arrival on the monitor. As the image on the screen switched from one security camera to the next, he whistled softly as he watched the woman saunter across the garage to the elevator.

“Tasty. Looks like jailbait, though.”

“Detective,” Rebecca said in a voice so soft it would have been inaudible were it not so deadly. “Be careful what you say about one of mine.”

“Sure, Sarge. No offense—”

One of mine. Mitchell, whose eyes were riveted on the monitor as well, stiffened. “Officially?”

“Yes. She’s registered.” Rebecca regarded her solemnly, noting the tension in the young officer’s body and the harsh edge in her voice. So there is something going on with these two.

Since when? Being a registered confidential informant meant that Sandy was listed with the department by name and paid out of department funds on a regular basis. And if that were the case, Sandy’s identity was now on file for anyone to find. Jesus, as if being on the streets isn’t dangerous enough for her already. Why not just hang a target around her neck.

Mitchell managed a nod as Jason walked in with Sandy beside him, but her stomach was in knots.

“Can I get you some coffee or a coke?” Jason asked.

Sandy did a quick scan of the room, hesitating for millisecond on Mitchell’s face, before fixing on Rebecca with a defiant stare. “Yeah, sure. Why not.”

Addressing the group at large, Rebecca explained, “I asked Sandy to come down because I want her to look at last night’s live feed. It’s possible she might recognize the location, or the girls, or even the guy.”

Watts grunted in appreciation. Mitchell said nothing, but her eyes never left Sandy’s face.

“I can bring it up on the big screen in the viewing room,” Sloan offered.

“Great. So’s we can all get a close-up of the guy’s pecker.” Watts inclined his head toward Sandy. “Any chance you’ll be able to recognize that?”

“Depends,” Sandy said flatly. “Most of them look pretty much the same, except…” her eyes dropped briefly to Watts’s crotch, “some of them are a lot smaller than others.”

Watts grinned, not looking the least bit offended.

Sandy stayed close to Rebecca’s side as the group wended its way through the core of the work area, aware of Dell walking just behind her. Frye didn’t tell me Dell would be here tonight. Jesus, she looks pissed, too.

Once there, Sloan pushed a button and almost immediately images sprang to life on the large screen on one wall.

“I want you to look at the girls first,” Rebecca said. “Then we’ll go back, and you can look at him.”

Sandy was oddly silent as she watched the action on the screen. A man in a nondescript uniform entered a room in which the only furnishings were a bedroom set of the type sold in discount warehouses, a few lamps, and a chair. The bed was made up with a faded quilt. She leaned forward as two girls entered the room. One was Asian and the other Caucasian. The man stripped as they feigned surprise and awkward shyness.

“Can you…you know…make this bigger?” Sandy stared fixedly at the screen. “I want to see their faces…their eyes.”

“Just a second.” Sloan made some adjustments and zoomed in on the Asian girl’s face.

Sandy nodded in satisfaction. “She’s young, but not quite as young as they want you to think.”

“Anything else?” Rebecca whispered softly.

“I don’t know them,” Sandy replied hollowly. Watching the young girls do what she herself did on a nightly basis was harder than she had expected it to be. It was even worse knowing that Dell was watching. Why do I care what anyone thinks? Even her.

“Okay,” Rebecca whispered, hearing the discomfort in Sandy’s voice. Over her shoulder, she said to Sloan, “Get us a shot of the guy now.”

The images blurred, and then a profile of the man’s face came into view. Sandy straightened suddenly. “Wait…can you go back?…There…” she pointed at the screen. “On his neck…is that a scar?”

“Sloan?”

“Can’t be sure, but Jason can work it up for us later with the imaging software.”

“Good girl, Sandy.” Rebecca’s voice was tight with excitement. “Do you know him?”

“Seen him, maybe,” Sandy replied. “I remember something about a guy with a scar on his neck shaped like a, whatdayacallit, a scimitar.”

“Turn it off,” Rebecca ordered.

The lights came up and they all stood, blinking, carefully not looking at one another.

“If you can give me pictures of those girls, I can show them around,” Sandy offered.

“Jason will get them made up for you tonight,” Sloan replied.

Sandy nodded, really looking at Sloan for the first time, slowly taking in the wild dark hair, the amazing eyes, the muscular physique. She looked a bit like an older Dell, except Dell’s body was sexier, all wiry and tight and… Oh man, what is that about!

“Maybe flashing those pictures around’s not so cool,” Mitchell said, moving closer to Sandy. She almost reached for her hand, and then stuffed her fists into the pockets of her jeans instead. “You start asking about those girls and somebody might take notice. Somebody who you don’t want to take notice.”

“Mitchell,” Rebecca warned. I’m going to rein her in before she crosses a line.

Sensing that Rebecca was about to ream out Dell for interfering, Sandy lifted her chin and snapped, “I can take of myself. Why don’t you just worry about the cop stuff.”

While the others worked out the schedule for the next day, Mitchell and Sandy slowly drifted toward the elevator.

“Come on, I’ll walk you home,” Mitchell murmured to Sandy. She rested her fingers lightly against Sandy’s bare elbow.

“Sandy,” Rebecca called, catching up to them at the elevators. “Let’s take a ride.”