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“You need to write up a report, and I expect her current whereabouts to be included in it,” he demands.
“No, I don’t think so. Clearly, someone in this precinct has a big mouth and an interest in my cold case. How else would you have known about any of this? Until I know that there isn’t a cop involved in my case, I’ll keep my activities discreet.
“It’s my job to protect this girl and nobody, not even you, is gonna stand in my way. Got it?” My chest bows and I clench my fists. I will fight my own Chief if he tries to tie my hands on this. I take a deep breath and add, “Now, is there anything else you want to argue with me about, or can I work my case?”
“There’s no police involvement, Chris. I wouldn’t even go down that road. You want to be discreet? Be discreet but your deadline still stands. I want the name of a perp or one in custody by the end of the week or your witness flies and can fend for herself,” he walks out and I slam my fist on my desk. I have to get out of here before I lose control of myself.
Do I think that it’s likely there’s police involvement in this case? No. It was more likely a bored dispatcher or beat cop who had nothing more interesting to talk about that alerted the Chief to my activities, but I’m not turning Carrie over to the bureaucracy.
She’s mine to take care of. I take the Chief’s concerns about Carrie being left alone as a direct order to spend my time with her and prepare to leave the station once I’ve clocked my time. On my way out, I see the officer who booked Carrie’s attacker. I stop by his desk and ask, “How’s our guy liking lockup? Is he twitching yet?”
“You didn’t hear? He’s not in lockup. Our homeless, heroin-addicted rapist has himself a fancy uptown lawyer. He bonded him out this morning,” he tells me and my wheels start turning.
“How does that happen? Is he some kind of eccentric trust fund millionaire?”
“Who knows, man? All I know is that another scumbag is out on the street.”
“Would you do me a favor? Don’t go out of your way but when you’re patrolling the area, would you keep an eye on his corner for me?” I ask the officer.
“Sure, no problem. Rapists and child molesters are the worst of the worst. I’d be happy to catch him up to no good,” he replies.
I pat him on the shoulder and say, “I appreciate it.” I turn to leave but stop mid-stride and add, “And if you hear the name of that lawyer floating around, I wouldn’t mind having that, too.”
“You got it,” he nods.
I leave the station and head to my place to pick up some clothes to bring back to the cabin. I put my key in the lock and the door opens. I examine the jam and discover that the lock has been broken.
Someone has kicked in my door. I remove my sidearm from the holster and step inside. The place is empty, but my drawers and closets have been ransacked. There’s only one reason that anyone would do this.
They’re looking for Carrie. I look at the framed photo of the cabin that sits on my bookshelf and grab my cell phone.
“Hello? Chris?” Carrie answers.
“Yeah, it’s me. Listen, I need you to make sure the door is locked and stay inside until I get back.”
“Does someone know that I’m here?” I hear the panic in her voice and close my eyes. I shouldn’t have started the conversation this way.
“I don’t think so but better safe than sorry. I’m on my way to the grocery store. I’ll call you again when I get there. In the meantime, don’t panic but stay alert. Got it?”
“Don’t panic? Please stay on the phone with me. I don’t want to be alone.”
“Okay, I won’t hang up. I promise.”
FORBIDDEN FRUIT
CARRIE
Ipace the floor, checking out every window for signs of movement as Chris tries to console me over the phone. I wish he hadn’t said anything. I was finally starting to feel safe for the first time in months, and now my senses are back on high alert. I jump out of my skin each time the wind blows. I hear the sound of tires on the gravel and peek through the edge of the curtain.
It’s him! Finally.
I open the front door and step out onto the porch as he unloads his suitcase. He looks up at me and smiles, but I can see the worry on his face. This isn’t good. If he’s worried, I should be frantic.
He comes inside and sets down his bag then returns to the car to collect the groceries. I wait until he closes and locks the door to ask, “What changed?”
“Nothing definitive but I don’t take chances,” he replies.
“But there was something, right? Why else would you have called?”
