Page 17
Then he was gone.
Skye was so angry, she threw her mug across the room toward the door. It shattered on the floor.
She couldn’t stop the tears from running down her cheeks.
XVI.
On Friday night, Skye went up to her dad’s apartment above the bar and let herself in. Her dad was lying in his recliner asleep, mouth slightly open, a box of tissues and large bottle of water on the table next to him. The TV was on a sports news channel, the sound low. She went to the kitchen and put the chicken soup she’d brought into the refrigerator.
Her dad had called her this afternoon and asked if she could come over tonight and maybe tomorrow to man the bar. Said he was feeling under the weather, which was clearly the case since he was sleeping at five o’clock in the afternoon. Of course she had agreed, even with her hangover.
She wrote him a note that soup was in the fridge and she’d check on him later, then went downstairs to relieve the part-time day bartender.
Friday night was always the busiest because it was payday. More than a dozen cops, whether on the job or retired, came up to her to lament her suspension. She thought she would hate talking about the case or what happened to Maggie, but she found it cathartic.
She closed up at 1:00 a.m., put the receipts and cash in the safe, and went upstairs to check on her dad. She saw the light under the door, so she knocked and let herself in. She found him eating the soup at the table, looking a little better, but tired.
“Busy night?” he asked, then coughed.
“No busier than usual,” Skye said. “Do you need anything?”
“No, but I’m feeling this in my chest. Can you come back tomorrow? If I feel better, I’ll come down and relieve you.”
“Don’t you dare. Take the time. I’m happy to do it. It’ll keep my mind off everything.”
“How’s Maggie?”
Skye didn’t want to talk about the rookie, but this was her dad, so she said, “She’s a fighter. She lost a lot of blood. But he broke her damn jaw. She’s going to be drinking out of a straw for weeks. She was released yesterday, and her boyfriend is taking time off to take care of her.”
“Stand tall, kid. This wasn’t your fault.”
“Like hell it wasn’t. I went along with the wild idea because I didn’t think it through. I thought it might work. I thought we’d catch him in the act. And instead? He tracked her to her apartment and nearly killed her because he knew. He knew we were setting him up. Yeah, it’s my fault. I’m the senior cop. I’m the detective. I have a decade more experience than Maggie.”
Nick didn’t say anything, though he scowled into his soup.
She rubbed her temples. “Look, he’s gotten away with eight rapes, one murder, and one attempted murder. Forensics has gone through Maggie’s place, security, everything, but without getting his DNA, without a solid witness, we can’t tie him to any of the crimes. He’s never going to give us his DNA. It’s no longer my case, and I may not even have a job.”
“You will. You’re suspended, not fired.”
“IA has been investigating all week. Brian said they interviewed Maggie, Calderon, Natalie, and all the previous rape victims. I can’t imagine what they’re going through, having to relive this over and over again because of my screw-up. I have another meeting with IA next week. They’re going to fire me. Hell, I could be facing charges.”
“I’ve got your back, Skye. So do most of the cops in Salem. We’ve all had cases like this.”
She got up. She loved her dad more than anything, but she didn’t want to be placated. This was bad, they both knew it. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
The next day, she went to visit Maggie at her apartment, brought her a smoothie. Maggie couldn’t talk and looked like she’d been run over by a train. But she wrote on a notepad:
I screwed up. I told Garcia it was my idea and my fault.
Skye shook her head, but Maggie reached out and weakly grabbed her wrist, nodded even though it had to hurt. Then she let go and closed her eyes.
Maggie’s boyfriend came into the bedroom, saw the note, and said, “You’re both to blame, but so am I. She told me what you two were doing. I should have talked her out of it.” He blinked back tears.
“I could have,” Skye said, knowing that to be the truth. “I’ll come back tomorrow.”
She drove to the bar, feeling melancholy. She checked on her dad, who was in bed. She left him a sandwich from his favorite deli, then went to relieve the day bartender. If her dad wasn’t feeling better tomorrow, she would insist he go to the doctor.
Though Saturdays weren’t as busy as Fridays, she had a steady crowd. Mac came by and kept her company near the end of the night. One look and she knew he had forgiven her for not telling him what she and Maggie were doing.
